Survivors Past and Present
by VirtualQueens
Summary: Stranded on a planet that is home to more than one mystery, Tom Paris and an away team from Voyager must struggle for survival. Set during the first season.
1. Chapter 1

Survivors - Past and Present

by

Nicol Leoraine

Elizabeth Gilliam

aka VirtualQueens

Disclaimer:We do not own any of the recognizable/original characters, places or things.We made no profit off of this story and meant to disrespect to the writers/owners of said characters/places/things.We do own this plot and any new characters/places/things.

Title: Survivors - Past and Present

Genre: Adventure/Angst/Action

Warnings: None

Rating: PG (possible some cursing)

Archive: Sure, but ask the authors first

Chapter 1 - 'Out of the Fire'

"Way to go Paris," thought Tom as another fist landed on his chest, knocking the wind out of him with brutal force. He fell to the floor, pulling his furious opponent with him, and as he fell Tom caught sight of the smirk upon their audience´s face. That half Klingon monster was enjoying this!

The fight stopped suddenly, Grange´s fist halfway to Tom´s face, with the arrival of former Maquis Captain Chakotay.

"What the hell is going on" the demoted captain shouted, and Tom, with some effort, straightened his bent form. He wouldn't show pain, not to them.

B´Elanna Torres didn´t even try to wipe the hate from her face, though the other Maquis, the one who'd been beating the crap out of Tom, looked a little troubled. Tom noted his adversaries quickly swelling nose and smiled every so slightly with satisfaction. At least he'd been able to get in a few good punches.

"Well" asked Chakotay, glaring at Tom.

Chakotay took his position of Commander seriously and he felt it necessary to stop his former crew from initializing any unneeded conflicts with Voyagers original members. Besides, Tom had saved his life not so long ago and Chakotay had never been one to leave debts un-paid.

"Nothing, sir" mumbled Tom, his torn lip stating different. Chakotay caught the satisfied grimace on the other opponents face, and frowned at him.

"Grange! What happened to your nose"

"Bumped into the wall, captain" said Grange, his face reddening with the mention of the blow he'd been unable to avoid. Chakotay didn´t even try to remind the man that he wasn't captain anymore. Perhaps if he was still seen as a captain, they'd listen to him more attentively.

"And you Paris? Don´t tell me you bumped into the same wall."

"No, sir. I fell" Tom replied promptly, a small smirk showing from behind his swollen mouth.

"I take it you saw how clumsy they both were, B´Elanna"

"Paris fell, and pushed Grange on the way down. It seems common for him to bring down anyone who's near" B´Elanna said in a scathing tone. Tom instantly felt his chest constrict in anger at her words. The painful part was, she was right, at least about his affect on others.

In truth Tom couldn´t remember who started the fight. They´d brushed past each other in the corridor and moments later they were on the ground, throwing wild punches and insults at one another. Torres had appeared behind Grange a few seconds after the fight started, goading them on. As she´d watched savagely from the sidelines Tom had thought she might join in, but apparently fighting with mere humans was beneath her Klingon heritage.

Now B'Elanna looked more than a little unsatisfied about the fact that she had passed up an opportunity to hit him. Paris almost laughed.

"I don´t care what the two of you have going on, but it stops now." Chakotay ordered, looking at Grange and Paris, and then throwing one warning glance at B´Elanna. She snorted and turned away.

"Get cleaned up, Paris. Grange, I think you´re needed in the environmentals." Chakotay waited till both men walked there separate ways, then headed for the Bridge. It seemed that Captain Janeway had some assignment for him.

xxxxxxx

Three hours later Tom stood in the shuttle bay, thinking that this was not a good way to start an away mission. Janeway had ordered an away team to take a shuttle down to a nearby M-class planet and mine some of its dilithium while Voyager investigated a possible wormhole, a three day flight from the planet. Janeway had also hinted that while on the planet some fresh food would be a welcome change from some of Neelix´s more ´exotic´ dishes.

The away team consisted of none other than Tom Paris himself, and Commander Chakotay. Paris doubted that it had been the commander´s decision to go on this mission with him, but there hadn´t been much of a choice.

Despite his past Tom was the best pilot on the ship, and the scans of the planets surface had shown the possibility of electrical storms, something only Paris had experience flying through.

If they'd had more time, or a different planet, Janeway probably wouldn't have chosen ex-prisoner Pairs, but supplies of dilithum with dwindling and no other worlds suitable for mining showed up on scans, even long range ones.

Perhaps it wouldn´t have been so bad, mused Tom, had the situation not gotten entirely out of control. He´d welcomed the chance to spend a few days away from Voyager and a crew that despised him. Remembering the earlier conflict with bitterness Tom touched his still throbbing lip. It wasn't worth the visit to sickbay, knowing he'd have to listen to that annoying hologram.

Who was he kidding? Everyone on board, with a very few exceptions, hated him with a passion. If it were possible, the crew would have formed an 'Anti-Tom Paris club'. He was sure both the Maquis and Starfleet crewmembers would join. With the hostile atmosphere in mind, Tom had readily agreed with Janeway´s order to pilot the shuttle. Janeway however failed to mention who the other members of the away team were. Had Tom know in advance who his traveling companions would be, he would've jumped out the airlock rather than suffer their company.

He´d arrived in the shuttle bay right on time and met up with Ensign Harry Kim. Though inexperienced, Harry was nice enough and hadn´t yet been openly hostile to Tom, so it didn´t seem too bad. Tom was midway through a speech about the attributes of certain female crewmembers, and Harry was just starting to blush, when a loud cough interrupted him. It was Chakotay, regarding them with a frown, as if he'd just discovered a pair of exceptionally ugly aliens sitting in his shuttle pod.

"Everything ready" Chakotay barked, shoulders stiff.

"Yes sir" Tom muttered in a barely audible voice, his cheerful mood having evaporated at the sight of the commander.

As he moved to the front of the shuttle, Tom comforted himself with the thought that it could´ve been worse. That part Klingon woman could be there. He shuddered at the mere thought.

"A little cold for you, Paris" the voice of his nightmare asked with malicious delight. Tom spun around, coming face to face with B´Elanna Torres. This mission had officially turned into a disaster. And they hadn´t even left Voyager yet.

xxxxxx

Twenty minutes later, Tom had upgraded the mission´s status to 'catastrophe'. He could hardly control the little shuttle as it was thrown about by the powerful storms that had hit the planet as soon as they entered the atmosphere. It was too late to turn the shuttle around and head back to Voyager, not to mention the fact that Chakotay wasn't to keen on the idea of informing his 'new captain' that they didn't even reach the surface.

So Tom gritted his teeth and flew one handed, using the other to type in commands that would hopefully keep the little ship aloft. B'Elanna was making a point to drop suggestive remarks about his lack of piloting skills every few moments, but Tom resolutely kept his mouth shut, making no mention of the fact that they'd been assured the storms would cause no problems.

SOMETHING was definitely creating a problem, and Tom doubted it was his skill, or lack of there of, as a pilot. As the shuttle jerked again, sending its occupants sprawling, the main lightning flickered out, leaving only the dim blue glow of the emergency back up. For a single, almost comedic moment, the ship seemed to hover in mid air. Then it began to drop, speeding towards the earth in a nose dive.

Somewhere amid the screeching of over stressed metal Chakotay yelled"Brace for impact" , but then the time ran out and the little shuttle hit the ground, crumpling like an old fashioned aluminum can, crushed under the weight of someone´s foot. With the final jolt, the shuttle's emergency lights went out and the occupants lost their fight with the darkness.

-T-B-C-

A/N - Liz:

So this is our first story together, but all in all I thought it wasn't to bad. -) Reviews and constructive criticism are much appreciated. -)

A/N - Nicol:

Well, like Liz said, Read and Review, we´re waiting. The second chapter should be up very soon, depends on what we get-)


	2. Chapter 2

_**Survivors - Past and Present**_

_**by**_

_**Nicol Leoraine**_

_**Elizabeth Gilliam**_

_**aka VirtualQueens**_

_**Disclaimer:We do not own any of the recognizable/original characters, places or things.We made no profit off of this story and meant to disrespect to the writers/owners of said characters/places/things.We do own this plot and any new characters/places/things.**_

_**Title: Survivors - Past and Present**_

_**Genre: Adventure/Angst/Action**_

_**Warnings: None**_

_**Rating: PG (possible some cursing)**_

_**Archive: Sure, but ask the authors first**_

**Chapter 2**

Darkness. Silence. Pain.

For what seemed like eternity, that was Tom's world. Then the dull throbbing pain grew into a sharp knife, cutting away at the darkness and silence and bringing him back to the conscious world.

Slowly he registered the uneven rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of his own gasping breaths. It was not a comforting sound, hearing ones self struggling to draw in air, and with a groan Tom forced his eyes to open.

But the darkness remained. Panic hit almost immediately. He couldn't see. He was blind, helpless.

Nothing was making sense and with the absence of light Tom was becoming increasingly claustrophobic, his already irregular breaths coming faster and shorter, making his head spin in a sickening circle.

A sharp grunt from off to his right pulled him back to reality. He let out a slow breath, and inhaled with equal slowness. It hurt, and his chest still felt heavy, but he could breath. This realization went far in calming his shattered nerves, and Tom turned his head in the direction the grunt had come from.

"Harry?" He asked hopefully.

"Don't you wish Pairs." B'Elanna snapped, struggling to her feet. Though her voice was anything but happy it did hold the tiniest bit of relief at hearing the pilot´s voice.

Tom groaned again, more out of annoyance than pain, and asked "How come I can't see"

"The lights are off." B'Elanna said simply, her voice closer this time.

"What about the emergency backups?" Tom asked, wiggling the fingers of his left hand experimentally.

"They went off when we hit the ground." B'Elanna said with another grunt.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." Torres replied, then cursed.

"What?"

"The flashlights aren't working. Chakotay?"

Silence.

"Kim?"

A slight moan was their only answer.

"Harry? Come on, talk to me." pleaded Tom, raising his voice as much as he could. He would have gone on but a violent coughing fit stopped him, sending hundreds of tiny, painful needles through his chest.

Distantly he heard B'Elanna asking if he was hurt, but he couldn't answer. He didn't even know if his eyes were open any more, it was impossible to tell in the darkness. Cool fingers on his cheek abruptly pulled him back to consciousness and he gasped, feeling air flood his lungs again.

"Paris!"

His eyes flew open and he saw the shadowy shape of Torres kneeling beside him.

"Are you alright?"

"Didn't know you cared." he replied with a groggy smirk. He was rewarded with a firm slap.

"Hey!" Tom protested, pulling away. "What was that for?"

"Just making sure you're lucid." B'Elanna replied, making no effort to hide the satisfaction in her voice.

"Bet you enjoyed it." Tom broke off suddenly. Something was different. The weight on his chest was gone. The pain of bruised ribs stayed, but the mere act of breathing was now much easier.

"What-" he started to ask.

"You had a ceiling panel on you." explained B'Elanna in a matter of fact voice. "I took it off."

"Thanks."

"Don't think I did it for your blue eyes, pig. Chakotay and Kim are both injured and I need your help."

Paris fought the overwhelming urge to launch himself at B'Elanna in a fit of rage. Instead he slowly sat up, wincing.

B'Elanna was right. If Chakotay and Kim were hurt she'd need his help, not his complaints.

Paris stood slowly, using the wall to support himself, and took a mental inventory of his body´s status. His ribs were painful, but probably not broken and the bruises that covered the rest of his body were far from debilitating.

Tom ran a hand over his face, and groaned when it came away sticky with blood. Gently he used his fingers to explore his scalp, quickly finding the gash over his right temple. The blood was almost dried and his head didn't hurt half as much as his ribs so Tom concluded that he was, considering, in pretty good condition.

"How're Kim and Chakotay?"

"Unconscious. I don't think they broke anything, though Chakotay might have a sprained wrist. Luckily it's not his shooting arm."

"Luckily." Tom muttered, wondering if Chakotay would turn a phaser on him for letting the shuttle crash.

Moving slowly Paris searched the shuttle's interior for his younger friend. Whoa, when had Harry gone from kid to friend? Tom shook his head slowly. Bad things happened to people who were his friends, he knew that by now. Moving forward again his hand brushed what felt like a uniform.

He knelt down and felt his way to Kim's neck, where he checked the ensigns pulse. After a moment Tom sat back on his heels, relieved to have found a strong, steady pulse.

"Come on, Harry. Wake up." Tom said, shaking the other man gently.

"Don't wanna go to school" mumbled Harry as he rolled over. "Got a headache."

"I bet you do." Tom said with a slight smile "But you gotta wake up." Lowering his voice Tom whispered "You wouldn't leave me all alone with B'Elanna would you!"

At that Harry groaned and rolled over again.

"Huh? Tom? Wha-"

"Careful, Harry. I'm pretty sure you have a concussion."

"How come I can't see?"

"Because there're no lights. Give your eyes a few minutes, they should adjust a little."

Quickly Tom explained what had happened, despite the fact that he wasn't too clear on that himself. Meanwhile B'Elanna had successfully roused Chakotay, who was now leaning dazedly against a wall.

"Is everyone alright?" Voyager´s second in command asked slowly.

"Mostly bruises." B'Elanna answered, leading a swaying Chakotay over to Tom and Harry.

"Status?"

"We're without energy, not sure how long it's been out though. The flashlights aren't working and the computers are dead and I don't have any idea why because I can't run a diagnostic" It seemed that B'Elanna's voice rose proportionally with her frustration. "Even the tricorders don't work."

That surprised Tom, who'd been planning on using the medical tricorder in the near future.

"What about the dermal regenerator?" asked Harry,glancing atthe gash across the back of his right hand.

"I doubt it." replied B'Elanna with a sigh.

"Phasers?" This time it was Tom who spoke, but the answer was only silence.

"Ok." Chakotay said slowly, sounding slightly more alert. "First we need light, then we can see what sort of shape the shuttle's in."

"Anyone have a lighter?" Tom asked.

No one answered. Smoking was banned on Earth, and Voyager, and as such none of the crewmembers possessed a lighter, despite the fact it would have been very useful in their current situation.

"If the phasers worked-"

"They don't." snapped B'Ellana.

Tom was silent, one hand wrapped absently around his sore ribs, as if physical contact could ease their pain. Distantly he wondered if the hypos were working. He doubted it.

The magnetic storms seemed to have damaged everything technological. As to how, Tom didn't know. The shuttle was well shielded and should have withstood the storm.

"-should look around."

Tom´s head snapped up, and he realized that while he'd been contemplating their situation the others had continued talking.

"But the storms..." Harry was saying in a worried voice "they could be dangerous."

"No more so than sitting here, waiting for Voyager to find us." B'Elanna said.

"Why? They'll be looking for us. We were due to report back five hours after landing. Maybe they're already on their way." Harry replied in an optimistic tone.

"Yeah and they'll probably find out about that big magnetic storm that our sensors registered only a little to late" said B'Elanna in a sarcastic tone. "And guess what, Starfleet-they'll wait it out in the safety of Voyager. There'll be no rescue team until the storm ends, whenever that may be."

"And how do you know it hasn't already?"

"I don't" admitted B'Elanna. "That's the reason we need to look around."

"But what if we get caught in the storm." protested Harry, his voice tinged with more urgency than the situation required. The kid was scared, though he hid it well.

"I don't think the shuttle is going to offer much protection from the storms. All the shielding is off line. Not to mention the fact we'll run out of oxygen in a few hours." Chakotay said in a reasonable voice.

Tom readily agreed with the commander. The shuttle's dark confines was doing nothing positive for his mental state, and he was starting to feel claustrophobic again. Not of course that he'd ever admit it.

In the end it wasn't much of a decision. The ventilation and oxygenation systems had been disabled in the crash and their air disappeared at an alarmingly rapid pace. Thus Chakotay hesitated for only a very brief second before manually opening the shuttle's hatch and stepping out. The rest of the team was close behind him.

The first thing that hit them was the clear, amber color of the sky and it's swirling, orange clouds. The second was the strong winds that blew over the sandy ground, whistling in their ears as it tore past. But there was an oxygen rich atmosphere not unlike earths and it eased their lungs. Once the initial gasping breaths and coughing fits were over with the four humans examined their landing place with a cautious curiosity.

The shuttle was half buried in the ground and for some paces in all directions the grassy ground covering was charred black. To their left a majestic range of mountains soared out of the gently rolling ground and Tom silently thanked whatever god was listening that they hadn't crashed there. Silvery snow coated the mountains peaks, promising fridged weather.

To the right there were more gently rolling hills, a few rocks and the faint glimmer of blue that indicated a substantial body of water.

Tom, always an explorer, walked around the flyer, and jogged a few yards down a small hill. When he looked up from the ground, which he'd been watching in order to avoid any rocks, he let out a gasp. And for the next few moments Tom Paris was completely and utterly speechless.

Eventually he managed to call out for Chakotay, but his blue eyes never moved from their point on the horizon. More gasps announced the arrival of the others, but still Tom didn't look away. For him the only thing that existed was the glittering city before them.

It was at least a mile away, set at the base of a large cliff and was uniformly built out of some pale blue material that glinted enticingly in the waning sunlight. None of the buildings looked more than five or six stories high, and as far as Tom could tell they were all interconnected. It wasn't a large city, pressed up against the cliffs as it was, but its rounded architecture was beautiful. And yet it was dead. There was no movement, no shuttles zooming about, no people walking around. There was nothing.

A distant crackling sound broke the spell that had held the away team entranced and as one they turned to look behind them. Dark, angry orange clouds were moving swiftly across the rolling hills, and after a moment Tom realized why they looked so odd. They were sparkling with blue bits of pure energy. Tom shivered, feeling the air physically change as the storm drew even closer.

"We need to move." he said urgently. Nobody argued.

"I think the scans showed a cave system over that way." Chakotay said, waving one hand to the left of the city.

"You _think!_" Tom asked sarcastically.

"Caves will protect us from the storms, but we'll have to move fast." Chakotay replied, ignoring Tom. "Harry, B´Elanna, you can start towards the caves. I´ll help Tom to get the supplies from the shuttle. We´ll catch up with you."

B´Elanna was about to protest, but Chakotay threw her a commanding look, and for once, she paused.

"You need to find the caves, B´Elanna. We can´t lose time arguing."

B´Elanna nodded shortly and pulled Harry by the arm, while Chakotay and Tom made there way back to the shuttle. With a slightly worried glance at Harry and B´Elanna, who were helping each other stagger towards the caves, struggling with the growing wind, Tom followed Chakotay. He grabbed a medkit and some blankets, while Chakotay pocketed two phasers, even though they didn´t currently work, a small knife with a retractable blade, and a tricorder. They also took some food from the emergency stocks.

Then, with a quick look around the shuttle, they stepped back outside.

The world had disappeared. Or rather, the storm was hiding it. Harry and B´Elanna were no where to be seen, and the city and supposed caves were hidden in a swirling dust storm.

xxxxTBCxxxx

A/N-Liz:

Paris angst ahead. -) Please drop a review, and tell us what you thought. -) Chapter 3 should be along shortly.  
_Extra note:  
For some reason some of our punctuation (question marks mainly) have been disappearing. I think it's fixed now, but I'm not sure._

A/N-Nicol:

Thanks for all the reviews-) The story still isn´t closed, so you can send us ideas-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Survivors - Past and Present**

by **Nicol Leoraine**

**Elizabeth Gilliam**

aka **VirtualQueens**

Chapter 3

"Uh-oh." Tom muttered, looking around at the growing dust storm. He felt Chakotay stop behind him, and heard the other man cough as the dust swirled into his face. The wind had created a shrieking choir, one that was soon joined by the crackle of energy as it leapt from the clouds in search of a path from the sky. Tom raised a hand to his eyes, shielding them from the wind and dust, but it was a futile effort. He thought he heard someone shouting nearby, but the sounds of the storm overpowered any mere human noise. A brilliant blue bolt struck a few inches from Tom's feet and he staggered backwards, falling to the ground as more bolts jumped from the orange clouds. A bolt brushed his back and Tom screamed, feeling his body fill with far more energy than any human form was ever meant to hold. The energy dissipated rapidly, sinking into the ground that he lay on, but the pain didn't stop, and Tom quickly realized that breathing had become impossible. In some distant corner of his overloaded mind he felt a strong hand circling his arm and chest, pulling him away, but like the rest of the world if faded into blackness.

His eyes were red rimed and painful, tears pouring down his face as they tempted to wash out the foreign dust. Hacking coughs cleared his chest, and a pair of willing hands helped him sit up, as he regained his breath.

"By the spirits, Paris." Chakotay growled when Tom finaly stoped coughing.

"When I say back to the shuttle I don't intend for you to stand around admiring the scenery and wander on back whenever you feel like it!"

Tom simply stared, his mind slowly churning.

"I didn't hear you Chakotay." he said finaly, looking around him. They were back in the shuttle, and the rear hatch was open just enough to allow air in.

"It's Commander to you Paris, not Chakotay. And I suppose you 'didn't hear me' the same way you 'didn't hear me' on your first mission for the Maquis. " The contempt in the older mans voice was unmistakable.

Tom didn't say anything, just gave a well practiced shrug of indiferance. After a few tense minutes of silence Tom's head was clearer and he struggled to stand. Insted another coughing fit drove him into a miserable heap on the floor, as he alternately coughed his lungs up and clutched his acheing ribs.

"Paris!"

He waved one hand in Chakotay's general direction, but verbal comunitation was out. Suddenly he felt a hand on his back, and another hovered before his face, holding a bottle of water to his lips. He drank greedily, only stopping when the commander pulled the bottle away.

"You alright?" Chakotay asked, setting the bottle down next to him. It was small and bore the red lable of emergency rations.

"Yeah I'm fine...Commander." Tom couldn't quite keep the sarcasm out of his tone and he mentaly sighed when Chakotay's lips thinned. The two stared at one another, and would have continued to do so had the hatch not suddenly shut. Desperate to keep their air supply the two men lunched at the hatch and pushed it open. But instead of swirling dust and the sounds of the storm there was only silence. Hesitantly Chakotay pushed the hatch fully open and the two stared out at the world. The dust still stired slightly, driven by a small breeze, but it wasn't like the howling tornado from earlier. The sky though...

Tom wasn't sure he'd ever seen such a storm. Its color was something between deep orange and brown, glittering with the richest blue Paris had ever seen.

"Its so..."

"Incredible? Amazing?" cut in Chakotay, his voice sounding as odd as Tom's.

"Both, I think." muttered Paris.

After a moment Chakotay let out a breath and glaced at Tom. The pilot was pale and didn't look too steady on his feet but other than a few bruised ribs and maybe a mild concusion Chakotay didn't think he was too badly injured.

"We should look for Kim and Torres." Chakotay said finaly.

"Think they made it to the caves?"

"Maybe. The storm seems to be over, at least for a while." Chakotay forced Tom to the ground, and handed him the bottle of water. "Stay here and yell out if you see it starting up again. I'm going to try hailing Voyager again."

Tom waved Chakotay off, eagerly gulping the water. A few minutes later Chakotay returned shaking his head in response to Tom´s inquring look.

"Didn't work. Nothing works, comm, phasers, tricorders..." Chakotay trailed off as he stared out at across the gently rolling hills.

"Think B'Elanna and Kim could have survived outside the caves?" Tom asked after a moment.

Chakotay shrugged but his face was grim. "The storm hit us first, they might have had time to get to some sort of shelter."

Privately Tom doubted it, but he didn't say so. Instead he just coughed agian, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He froze for a moment, looking at the dark material he'd coughed up but quickly realized it wasn't blood. It was just... dust. Alien dust. Tom coughed again and tried not to think about what the large amounts of foreign dust in his lungs might do.

"They might have made it to valley," Tom said, looking ahead to the slight dip in the land "that might have protected them." After another moment of silence Tom said in the quitest possible tone "and by the way, thanks for pulling me inside."

"Wouldn't have been any good, returning to Voyager without our pilot. I'm sure Captain Janeway wouldn't have been very pleased about that."

"Unlike the rest of Voyager." muttered Tom. If Chakotay heard the bitter words, he said nothing.

"Alright, we've determined that we can't contact Voyager and none of our technology works. We need to find the others and find someplace to protect us from the storm. The shuttle held out through one storm but I wouldn't risk my life on it not turning into a lightning rod during the next one."

"I won't argue with that."

The two men gathered up more emergency rations, as well as the supplies they'd grabbed previously, and set out at a quick pace, the storms swift approach fresh in their mind. The angry looking sky didn't help ease their fears and both Paris and Chakotay looked fervently around, as if the storm was hiding behind a stick or rock.

"Damn it, the storm's erased their tracks." Chakotay muttered, glancing at his own line of clear tracks that went back to the shuttle. The pod was now a fair distance away, only a dark smudge against the landscape.

"I think I see the entrance to the caves!" shouted Tom, pointing to the massive cliff face before them. A mile or so to their left the glittering blue city twinkled enticingly but Chakotay ignored it, jogging into the sparse forest of wide leafed trees that grew at the base of the cliffs.

Just as suddenly as he'd started though, Chakotay stoped, tilting his head to the side. Tom, a few feet ahead of him was doing the same, muscless tensed as if he expected to be attacked. The air had changed substance as they'd entered the forest and Chakotay had a very bad feeling about what the drop in pressure meant. He spun slowly around, and was greeted with the sight of a huge brown thunderhead, crackling with bolts of blue energy.

"Run!" yelled Chakotay and Tom wasted no time thinking. He just ran, Chakotay beside him. But the storm was quicker. Resolutely promising himself that he'd never go on another away mission Tom stumbled over a stick, quickly regaining his balance. The caves were close, maybe a hundred yards, but at the same time they seemed to be impossibly far away. Chakotay pushed himself faster, feeling the back of his uniform crackle with static electricty. Tom was still ahead by several yards, running flat out. A lighting bolt struck a few feet in front of Paris and he darted to the side, hitting Chakotay. The two tumbled to the ground as the storm raged overhead, and more bolts found their way to the forest floor, and the two helpless men.

When they fell Tom knew he was dead. The fall forced the air out of his lungs and his screaming ribs banished all ideas he had of inhaling again. Instead he watched as bright spots clouded his vision, distantly wondering how he could see anything with his eyes clenched closed. He was unaware of Chakotay falling to the ground next to him, unconscious, or as the storm grew. All he could see, were the spots of light, now growing to into a solar system of stars, and space, with it's noiseless vacume, offering no sound to his ears. The stars were swirling together, melding into a huge sun. But the sun didn't shine like it should. It was a black hole, demanding its light, and Tom, weary beyond anything he'd ever known, simply watched his world disappear. As the last little fleck of light fadded, Tom had one final thought.

'I don't wanna die.'

Neither Tom or Chakotay noticed the dark figures that had watched them fall, and neither man could hear their soft whispers now, or see the weapons they held in their callused hands.

**xxxxxxxx **

**A/N-Nicol**: _Okay, folks, the fourth is already written, but we would like to see some reviews, before we post it-)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Survivors - Past and Present**

by

**Nicol Leoraine**

**Elizabeth Gilliam**

**aka VirtualQueens**

**Chapter 4**

B'Elanna had never thought it was so easy to get lost. But the storm had hit with a speed and ferocity she'd never seen before and only generations of well tuned Klingon instincts kept her from being killed when the storm swept over them. She'd felt the pressure drop even before Harry had and instantly knew what it meant. Dragging a somewhat bewildered Starfleet ensign behind her she veered left, away from the cliffs, caves and city and towards another, much closer, outcropping of rocks. They reached the first small boulders within seconds but B'Elanna kept running, knowing that to the storm the rocks were mere pebbles.

"What's going on!" Harry gasped as he struggled to keep up with his surefooted companion.

"The storm." B'Elanna answered shortly, sparing the gasping man a glance as she dodged a larger collection of boulders.

B'Elanna finally stopped when they were well into a deep gorge in the hillside. Rocks littered the ground and the steep sides soared up for at least eighty feet.

The air was still, and the planet seemed deadly calm but B'Elanna knew it was only a matter of time. She shivered, looking around them. She had the same sort of feeling that you got when someone was behind pointing a phaser with no safety at your head.

In the distance she heard a faint crackle and she groaned.

"Come on." B'Elanna said, pulling at Harry's sleeve. "The storm´s getting closer. I've seen canyons like this before, there's probably a few caves, or at least an indent in the walls somewhere. We can't survive an electrical storm out in the open."

He risked a glance behind him anyway and the view almost stopped him. Harry didn´t know much about electrical storms, but the brownish blue cloud heading their way didn´t look very inviting at all. So he ran, trailing behind B´Elanna by several feet, attempting to match her speed and deftness over the rock strewn ground.

"I see something!" B'Elanna yelled, far ahead of him and the wind that died down, was back with vengeance.

"Good." Wheezed Harry, stumbling over a little dirt clod and nearly falling to his knees.

"RUN!" B'Elanna screamed when she reached the safety of trees and turned to look at him. Harry speed up, but he could feel he won´t make it. The wind roared and the thunder made him stumble. He cried out as his right leg buckled, stopped by some unseen rock. His head smacked the ground and flickers of light-not from the storm-danced in front of his eyes.

The half Klingon cursed as the young ensign remained in his prone position, one leg twisted painfully beneath him. Glancing at the fast approaching storm, and the dust that was pushed ahead of it, she saw it was only yards from him.

Breathing would be impossible once that dust cloud reached them and B'Elanna knew it. Cursing again she darted out from behind her shelter of trees and ran to Harry's side, pulling him up. He didn´t hear B´Elanna scream into his ear, only felt her supporting hand.

B´Elanna half dragged, half carried Kim back to where she´d found shelter. It was hidden behind a small collection of scrubby tress and bushes, a small cave entrance. Choking on the swirling dust B'Elanna shoved Harry inside. Using one arm to hold the ensign, and the other to navigate by the rough stone wall, B'Elanna jogged around a gentle curve and stopped in a medium sized, dust free, cave. She stood in the center for a few moments, swaying, and then sunk to the ground.

xxx

Some twenty minutes later B'Elanna had recovered her strength and Harry had regained consciousness.

"I don't think it's broken." B'Elanna said as she probed Harry's ankle. He hissed in pain as the woman continued her none to gentle examination, then glared at his 'doctor'.

"I know it's not broken," he grumbled, "there's no way I could have walked in here on a broken leg."

"Ankle. And you didn't walk, I carried you." B'Elanna said bluntly, pulling off her lightweight jacket.

"What are you doing?"

"Tying your ankle up."

"Do you know what you´re doing?" Harry asked, watching her.

"Of course I do. In the Maquis everyone had at least some medic training." After a moment B'Elanna sat back and nodded slightly. "There. It's pretty swollen but if you don't try to walk around to much you should be fine."

"Oh. Thanks for... well, thanks for pulling me inside." Harry glanced up at his companion for the first time and noted the bloody scratch across her face.

"Are you alright?" He asked, motioning to her face.

B'Elanna touched the cut gently, then shrugged.

"It's already stopped bleeding." She said, standing up and dusting her uniform off. It was a futile effort but she managed to get the worst of it off.

She offered her hand to Harry and he took it, gingerly trying out his leg.

"Okay?" B'Elanna asked, watching him lean against the smooth wall of the cave.

"I think so." Harry replied, carefuly taking a step forward. He wasn't going to be running any marathons but he could hobble around if he took it slow.

"Where are we?" he asked, examining their surroundings closely. The cave was a rough circular shape, with a dirt floor and smooth walls. Somewhere in the distance Harry could swear he heard a waterfall, but it might have just been his imagination.

"This looks-" B'Elanna paused, turning in a slow circle "This doesn't look natural." She said finally.

Harry nodded in agreement as he continued to inch his way around the room.

"It's too smooth." He said, running a hand over the wall.

"Here!" B'Elanna called, waving to a small indent in the wall. As Harry drew closer he realized it wasn't an indent at all, but a passageway.

"Maybe we should..." he trailed off, watching B'Elanna's retreating back. With a sigh he hobbled after her, watching the ground to avoid any more hazardous rocks. Which was precisely why he bumped into B'Elanna.

"Wha-" His words died in his mouth as he looked up, and followed B'Elanna's gaze. The short passage way had led them to another cavern, and this one was most defiantly not of natures own design. It was the same light, brownish red stone as the other cave had been, but the walls were covered in silver writing. Harry brushed a finger over one of the curving silver letters and pulled back, surprised.

"It's cool to the touch." He said, moving further into the cavern.

"Kahless," B'Elanna muttered in awe as she examined the wall nearest her carefully. There were motifs of animals on the wall, engraved with the cool silver metal. Some of the larger scenes showed grassy hills and several depicted the city they'd seen after landing. Beneath the drawings was a curving, gracefully and most defiantly alien script. And beneath that, scratched on with far less artistry in dark brown ink, were more words. English words.

Harry blinked, then leaned in closer to examining the writing. It was different than the terrane he was used to reading, and the dark ink was harder to read than the silver stuff above it. He was just starting with the first lines when B'Elanna's gasp made him straighten up quickly. He hobbled over to his shipmate and then he too gasped. The room was roughly L shaped and they'd come in the short end of the L. B'Elanna had made her way around the corner, to the long side, and there she had found something most unexpected.

A Gate. Not a bare cave, but a big, ornate silver gate, maderom the same cool metal that was on the walls.

"Should we knock?" B'Elanna said finally, cracking a small smile.

"It doesn't look very inviting." Harry gulped. Despite the fact the gate was a shining silver and made of smooth curves and flowing lines, there was something distinctly sinister about it.

"It's like a giant do not disturb sign." He said, stepping forward despite his misgivings.

B'Elanna sighed, turning from the gate. "Well I guess we should listen. Besides we need to get back to the shuttle, make sure Chakotay and Paris are ok."

"What if the storm hits again?"

"Then we'll hide. Look, once we get out of the caves we can follow the cliff's all the way to the city. From there it's not to long to the shuttle, or the other set of caves we were heading for."

"Fine." Harry muttered "But I should warn you I'm not the best runner these days." He added, glancing at his ankle.

B'Elanna was about to say that he didn't need to run that fast anyways when something behind them creaked. It was the sound of a long unused gate opening. They turned around, slowly, as if afraid of what they'd see. There were four men facing them, dressed in what had to be ancient Starfleet uniform, complete with Starfleet insignias, and each was pointing a crude looking phaser at the two intruders. The tallest of the man looked panicked at best, and the three behind him looked positively petrified.

"Klingon!" The man screamed, finger twitching on the phaser. A red bolt of energy hit B'Elanna in the shoulder and she collapsed without a word. Harry watched her fall with a stunned sort of fascination. He never saw the second bolt of energy though he felt it hit his back. He didn't even have time to scream.

xxxxxxxx

_**A/N-Liz**:_ _Hey thanks so much for all the reviews! It's so nice to know that people are reading our story, and it's great motivation to keep writing.smile If you have any comments on the story, suggestions for making it better, or just want to say that you read and enjoyed it, please review!_

_**A/N-Nicol**_: _Liz practically said it all-) We like reviews, they´re helping us write. The next chapter should have more Paris in it -grin, so stay tuned._


	5. Chapter 5

Survivors - Past and Present

by

Nicol Leoraine

Elizabeth Gilliam

aka VirtualQueens

Chapter 5

Somewhere in the distance someone was coughing. Paris knew it couldn't be him, because he wasn't breathing. Funny how that thought slid smoothly across his mind without creating any sort of alarm or fear. He wondered if he was dead. It would explain the not breathing part, but not the pain that he felt as awareness slowly returned. It started in his head, a slow steady throbbing. It really wasn't that distracting and Tom ignored it, watching fluffy white clouds float slowly by. But the gentle throbbing quickly took on a life of its own and grew into an unbearable pounding, as if a warp core meltdown was occurring inside of his head.

He groaned, drawing in a deep breath of air as he did so. The breath turned into a coughing fit though and the clouds melted into a field of dancing gold stars. He felt dust covering his face, and dirt (or was it blood?) caking his eyes shut but in comparison to the lightning from his chest and thunder from his head, the dirt was nothing. He gasped for air between hacking coughs, and in one such moment as he drew in a breath of cool air he was hit with the realization that the coughing was about to turn into something more. From somewhere amid the swirling stars a pair of strong hands turned him on his side, and just in time. He didn't know how long he lay on the ground, alternately retching and coughing, and he had no recollection of how he came to be lying on something semi-soft, feeling water wash over his face.

"Easy Paris, just take little breaths. Come on, open your eyes." A strained pause and then "Tom, now would be a great time to wake up." Another pause, during which Paris groaned and then "Don't make me order you Paris. Wake up."

There was something funny in the commander's voice, something that Tom couldn't quite identify. He didn't think it was concern over his condition. Hell, Tom didn't think anyone on Voyager really cared what happened to him.

But they weren't on Voyager were they? Slowly, like a worn vid tape, missing its soundtrack in some places, whole images disappearing in others, the events of the last few hours came back to him.

"Chakotay?" He muttered, turning his head to one side and letting out a small sigh.

He felt the air around him shift and then a hand was on his chest, keeping him from moving further.

"Can you open your eyes?" Checotay asked, wiping the pilot's face with the damp corner of his uniform.

Tom's head dipped slightly in a nod and a brief moment later his blue grey eyes opened partway. The stormy orbs seemed to search for a moment before finding Chakotay´s eyes.

"We have company." Chakotay muttered, pulling Paris' head and shoulders onto his lap, a position that made breathing infinitely easier for Tom. Looking up into the commander´s face Tom suddenly placed the emotion he'd heard in the commanders voice. It was fear.

"Company?" Tom hissed, wondering when breathing had become so painful.

Chakotay jerked his chin up and Tom followed the motion, quickly finding the source of Chakotay's fear.

They were surrounded by a group of bedraggled men. Bedraggled, armed men. Each was holding a loaded crossbow and several held sturdy spears. They didn't exactly look angry or hostile, more curious than anything, but none the less their weapons were pointed at the Starfleet officer's chests.

"They took our supplies and the phasers, though they still aren't working." Chakotay said, looking around at their silent audience.

"Who are they?

"I don't know. They took the translator, not that it's working anyways. They pulled us into the caves though. When I came to, our things were gone and they were standing there, watching us."

Tom, whose eyes had been slowly drifting shut again, looked up in surprise as two of the men started to talk. Their speech sounded faintly familiar, as if he'd heard it before, but Tom couldn't place it, and if Chakotay's tense body was any indication, he couldn't either.

The men sounded impatient, edgy. One was pointing alternately between the small cave entrance and his crossbow and spoke in a rapid fire manner, as if trying to make a point. The second was gesturing at a curved archway that Chakotay presumed to lead further into the cave system. He didn't seem as upset, and his fervent glances at the pair of men on the cave floor seemed more worried than hostile.

"I think I'm rooting for the guy on the left." Tom muttered, watching the exchange.

"I agree. He looks less..."

"Intent on throwing us back outside or shooting us?" Tom said, coughing slightly at the end of his sentence.

"Precisely." Chakotay replied, gently pulling Tom a little more upright. The pilot´s face was an unhealthy shade of white and Chakotay could feel the effort it took him to draw each shallow breath.

"How're you doing?" The commander asked quietly, watching as Tom leaned his head back, resting it against Chakotay´s chest. Something told him that had he not been wounded and tired Tom would have never allowed someone so physically close to him. Chakotay had noticed it during Tom's brief time in the Maquise and it had become more pronounced since he'd arrived on Voyager.

"Tired." Tom muttered, letting out as much of a sigh as his lungs and ribs would permit.

Seeing his eyes drift shut Chakotay lifted one arm to shake him awake but lowered it when he saw the pilot´s eyes open of their own accord.

"I'll be fine," he wheezed.

Chakotay had never heard a more blatant lie.

While the two Starfleet officers talked another man had arrived in the cave. He was older than the others, and his dark hair was laced with grey.

Chakotay had never been good at guessing ages but this man looked to be in his early to mid fifties. Older than the rest, but not exactly ancient.

He watched them with faded blue eyes for several moments, then gestured imperiously at his companions, and said a few quiet words to them, obviously orders of some sort. Two men-the two who'd been arguing earlier-turned and looked at their captives. They glanced at Paris, who was looking more uncomfortable by the minute, and motioned a third man forward. The trio approached Tom and Chakotay slowly, as if trying to snare a wild animal. Considering Tom's dead weight and the crossbows still aimed at his head, Chakotay made no move to escape. Two of the men lifted Paris to his feet, slinging his limp arms over their shoulders, while the other one pulled Chakotay up and pointed at the passageway Tom was being led, or rather carried down.

"Go."

Chakotay was startled to hear the heavily accented word, but after a brief moment of hesitation he took off after Paris.

They were brought through a twisting mass of caves, lit by lanterns and flaming torches. The caves might have been natural at one time, but someone, or something, had smoothed the walls and carved elegant doorways. The rooms ranged from a tiny space that seemed to hold dried plants, to a huge hall, complete with a vaulted ceiling, that could easily accommodate three hundred people. Their journey ended in a medium sized cavern, warmed by a fire that was built in fireplace that had been carved from the very stone of the caves. A waterfall fell down one wall and into a series of stone cups, and then a small pond, again carved out of the natural stone.

Chakotay had no idea how a seemingly primitive people had managed to do such things, but he put that question away for another time. Tom, who had slipped into complete unconsciousness, was laid upon thick pile of brown and white furs.

Chakotay sat down next to him, taking in the uneven rise and fall of his chest. The men who'd brought them to the cavern didn't leave, but they did move up against the opposite wall. A moment later the graying man entered, and walked slowly over to Tom and Chakotay.

"You...are...human?" The man asked slowly, kneeling a few feet away from Chakotay.

"Yes."

"We-" the man made a vague gesture that encompassed those in the room as well as the passage way leading to the rest of the caves "-are also human."

He paused, as if he'd just revealed some great piece of information, and then said: "You are not from the other side of the hills."

"Uh...no." Chakotay replied, frowning slightly.

"Of course you aren't. You do not dress like them and you do not talk like them. Where are you from?"

"Far away." Chakotay answered diplomatically.

"Very far I suppose." The man´s English was accented but the more he spoke the more confident he seemed to become. "You did not seem to know the danger of the storms."

"We were caught by surprise."

"As were we." The man said gravely. "It is not the storm season. We were lucky none of our people were out when it started."

The man paused again and then said suddenly "I'm being rude of course. I am known as Conan."

Chakotay nodded his head, then motioned to the still unconscious Tom. "Tom Paris. I'm Chakotay."

"Tom...Paris is not well."

"He's hurt."

The man nodded and moved forward slightly, watching Chakotay for signs of consent. The commander nodded slightly and Conan shuffled over to Tom's side. He gently listened to the man´s chest, tapping here and there, and then looked up with a grave expression on his face.

"His chest, it has fallen."

"What?"

"His chest, how he draws air in, one side has collapsed."

Chakotay suppressed the urge to groan. He'd suspected that this might be the case, but had hoped that he was wrong.

"I can help him." Conan said bluntly "If you will trust me."

Chakotay glanced at the men on the other side of the room, but their weapons were no where in sight.

Conan followed his gaze. "You are not prisoners here. We offer you food and shelter from the storms, and when they are over you will be free to go. But your friend is hurt. He will not survive long without help."

"And you can help him?"

Conan nodded. "It is not an easy injury to treat." He warned "Air inside his chest is crushing his-" Conan seemed to be searching for a world.

"Lung?"

"Yes. The air has escaped his lung and now it is crushing it."

Conan paused for a moment then turned to the others and spoke in a rapid fire manner. The men left quickly and Conan struggled to his feet, scuffling over to the fountains. He lifted a crudely made silver cup and filled it with water, then carried it and a few cloths back to Tom's still form.

From somewhere in the folds of his blue cloak the man withdrew a small container. He opened the lid, sniffing the contents slightly, and then set it on the ground.

"Help me open his shirt." The man said, pulling at Tom's uniform. Chakotay, more familiar with the Starfleet clothing, easily removed the pilot´s shirt, exposing his chest.

He recoiled slightly at the sight of the scars that covered Tom's chest and abdomen, but Conan, who was accepting a stone box from one of the men, didn't seem to notice. He set the small chest on the ground and flipped an unseen latch, opening it with a slight grating sound. He withdrew a long, thin, silver needle, glancing at Chakotay as he did so.

"You will have to hold him still."

Chakotay swallowed hard, hoping this wasn't a very large mistake, and did as the man said.

Conan had set the needle down and was smearing a tangy scented gel over one side of Tom's chest.

"This will help with the pain of the needle but it will do nothing for the deeper pain. If he awakens we can give him tea for that." The man said, lifting the needle off the ground.

Glancing at Chakotay, then back down at his patient, Conan inserted the needle in one swift, smooth motion.

A/N-Nicol: Okay kids, sorry for the delay, it was all my fault. I was without connection and Liz won´t put up anything without me reading it first-) Anyway, all credits for this chapter goes to Liz.


	6. Chapter 6

Survivors - Past and Present

by

Nicol Leoraine

Elizabeth Gilliam

aka VirtualQueens

Chapter 6

The metallic sound of something clicking shut was the first thing to penetrate B´Elanna´s conscious mind. She floated aimlessly in a half waking state until the feeling of metal encircling her wrists, holding them together, awoke her fully. With a badly suppressed groan the half klingon woman opened one eye and glanced around. Her surroundings were off kilter and fuzzy, no doubt thanks to the blast from the ancient phaser. Never before had B´Elanna thought to be thankful for the modern technology, but now, feeling the after affects of a much older version, B´Elanna silently thanked whoever had improved the weapon. At least when you got hit with a modern phaser you either died instantly or woke up with a mild headache.

As her vision cleared a little more B´Elanna opened her other eye and sat up slightly supporting herself on one elbow. Her stomach rolled in protest, but after a few queasy moments it settled. The room she was in had probably been a natural cave at one time, but like the other rooms she´d seen, the walls had been smoothed over. Here though, the silver metal covered the stone walls, creating a glistening surface. There was a small, silver door in one corner of the room, and a small patch of orange torchlight shown through a grate at the top of the door. After a moment she realized that the light from outside her room was outshone by a brighter, and much closer source of light. Looking up B´Elanna gasped in surprise. The ceiling over her room (or was it cell?) was glowing a faint green color as if someone had painted it with luminous paint. But the light was soft and fuzzy and as she slowly got to her feet, B´Elanna realized that it was some sort of a moss.

"What the hell-" she muttered, looking away and trying to ignore a distant twinge of fear that the walls would come crashing down and the glowing moss would eat her alive. It was ridiculous, of course, and B´Elanna wrote it down as a side-effect of that cursed phaser.

As her head began to clear and she reviewed the events that had led to her capture, B´Elanna realized that she was alone.

"Harry?" she asked out loud, even though she knew he wasn´t there, couldn´t be. Her cell was small, too small for her liking. There was no bed, no water, no food – simply nothing, just silver walls and glowing moss upon the roof. And of course the primitive handcuffs (mechanical closure-no technology there) that chafed the skin on her wrists.

She was separated, not only from Chakotay and Paris, but now from Harry Kim as well. What was the kid doing? Had he been shot? Was he even alive? The question of Harry´s well being bothered her, much to her dismay. He was Starfleet, he stood for everything she hated in his galaxy. Err - universe. B´Elanna shook her head. Maybe a wandering mind was another side effect of the phaser blast.

"Right, focus." She muttered to herself, glancing around the small space again. She supposed there was still hope for a rescue party from Voyager, or the timely arrival of Chakotay (even if he had to bring that Starfleet traitor with him) but she knew it was unlikely. The storm was bad, too bad for her former captain, or her current captain, to risk any sort of rescue. Chakotay was probably huddled down in the shuttle, slowly losing his mind as he suffered the close company of Tom Paris. And Voyager was either patiently waiting out the storm, or still blissfully unaware that anything was wrong.

Shaking her head B´Elanna forced away such thoughts, angry at herself, angry with her faceless captors, but most of all, angry at that gods cursed pilot for letting them crash in the first place. With a methodical preciseness that belied her true feelings the engineer began to examine the door on her cell.

* * *

"Who are you?" 

"Are you her prisoner?"

"Are you a traitor?"

"Answer us, stranger!"

The questions roared inside his skull and even before he opened his eyes, Harry knew he was in trouble. He recalled watching B'Elanna fall, and then a flash of light and nothing.

Though Harry didn´t know it, he was mere yards away from B´Elanna, in the room directly next to hers. The walls of course, covered as they were with the silver metal, were utterly sound proof. Had either of them screamed, the other one wouldn´t heard a sound.

Blinking in a dazed sort of way Harry glanced down at his wrists, noticing for the first time the metalic cuffs that bound his arms to the uncomfortable chair that he now occupied. The chair, made from the same silver substance, was cold, even though he'd been sitting there for a while, if his cramping muscles were any indication. But the thing that made him the most uncomfortable were the two other occupants of the room.

Squinting at them, Harry recognized the one that had shot B'Elanna. What he lacked in height he made up for with sharp, cruel, brown eyes, and bulging, well defined muscles. He seemed to be in his late forties, or early fifties, and his dark hair was cropped short and combed tidily over his head. The second man, who was currently looking down at Harry as one might regard a very small, badly behaved child, seemed younger, perhaps around Chakotay´s age. He had a light brown hair that had an almost reddish tint in the weird lighting of the room and green eyes that flashed with some secret emotion as he talked.

"Ah, our guest has woken up," drawled the younger of his captors and soon Harry had two faces looking down at him. It wasn´t a pleasant feeling.

"Who are you?"

"Where´s B´Elanna?" Harry asked.

"That Klingon!" the older one growled, spitting on the ground to show his disdain. "See, Aiden - he´s with her!"and the man threw a hateful glare at their prisoner.

Harry involuntarily jerked away.

"He might still be her slave," the younger one called Aiden said in a reasonable voice, arms crossed over his chest.

"I´m not anyone´s slave!" Harry protested, realizing a little too late that perhaps it would be better for him to just remain silent.

"Then what are you?"

"Are you Starfleet?" Harry asked, trying to change the subject. The men looked at each other, their faces unreadable.

"You are," Harry muttered as the realization hit him. Of course they were. How else could they be wearing Starfleet uniforms and posses Starfleet issue phasers (even if such items were rather outdated versions).

"How... how did you get there? The Caretaker!" The fist hitting his jaw was as surprising as painful and took a moment for Harry to stop the room from spinning. The pulsing pain in his jaw kept him from saying anything else, and with a disgruntled glance at his captors, Harry shut up completely.

"We´re the ones asking the questions!" Aiden reminded him, as the older one rubbed his knuckles. "Orsen, I think we should start again."

Orsen nodded, a slight smile curling his lips.

"What´s your name?"

"Ensign Harry Kim," he said, then spit out a mouthful of dust, spit, and possibly a few teeth. He glared at Orsen again.

"Where are you from?"

"Home." His reply earned him a warning scowl.

"Try again."

Silence.

"Maybe we should beat the answer out of him. Aiden?"

But the younger man shook his head, his mouth twisted into a cruel smile.

"No, I think we can do something better. Bring in that Klingon. I think it´s time we have some real fun."

Harry´s eyes went wide at the implication but a restraining hand on his face stopped any protest. Orsen disappeared behind the chair, and the grating sound of something moving announced his departure. For now Harry was alone with Aiden. looking up into his captors face, Harry was surprised to see the cruel look had vanished.

"We need to get you out of here." the man whispered "We need to find Conan. He'll know what to do."

Without further explanation Aiden produced a small key and unlocked Harry's restraints. The ensign tried to stand but was pushed back with a warning look.

"Not yet. Just sit there, leave the cuffs on and pretend they are still secure. It is not the right time." Harry nodded, even though he'd lost track of the conversation several minutes ago.

"If I help you get out, will that Klingon kill me?" Aiden asked, hastily tucking the key back into a pocket.

Harry replied with a firm head shake. "We're not here to kill anyone. If you don't give her a reason to harm you, and you help us escape, she won't hurt you. I can promise you that."

Aiden saw the truth in the young man´s gaze and nodded slowly.

"I believe you."

He might have said more, but Orsen had returned, dragging a seemingly unconscious B'Elanna with him.

"Now we can have some fun." Orsen said with a smirk, aiming the phaser at B'Elanna.

* * *

Nothing could have prepared him for the hot pain that shot through his chest as he awoke from the black haze of unconsciousness. He gasped for breath that wouldn´t come and squirmed away from the pain in a futile effort to escape it. But something was holding him down, restraining his pained body from any movement. Tom´s eyes shot open in panic, but all he could see were swirling colors and sparkling black dots.

He tried to scream out-to tell them to stop hurting him-but somewhere between his brain and his mouth the words became garbled, coming out as a pathetic whimper instead. Terrified at his inability to speak the pilot struggled harder

"Tom! Stop it!" Someone yelled into his ear, but he was too panicked to listen.

"You need to keep him still." Said another voice, as the darkness threatened once more.

"Can´t you give him something?" Chakotay gasped out as he struggled to hold the thrashing pilot in place.

"Not yet." Conan replied tersely, waving one of the guards over.

For a single instant Chakotay feared that the man was going to order the guard to shoot Tom, but instead the burly man only knelt down and helped to hold Tom still with a surprisingly gentle grip.

"I'm almost done." Conan said, manipulating the needle. Tom let out a whine of pain, but didn't move. The short struggle had drained his energy and it was all he could do to not fall back into complete unconsciousness.

With steady hands Conan spread a faintly greenish goo around the needle still protruding from Tom´s chest, and then wrapped small strips of cloth around it, to secure the needle from any unnecessary movement. Seeing Chakotay's inquiring look Conan smiled reassuringly.

"His lung will heal in time but until it has progressed further we must leave the needle in. If we do not the air will build up again and crush his lung."

Chakotay glanced at the pilot´s face, which was showing little of the pain he must be in, and sighed quietly. He liked to think he knew Tom, but he was beginning to wonder if he'd ever even met the man. The Tom he knew didn't have a lattice work of scars across his chest and back. The Tom he knew couldn't go from screaming in pain to stoical silence in the space of a few moments. The commander glanced at the other man´s exposed skin, his eyes tracing the many lines that ran over a toned chest and abdomen. No, the Tom he knew didn't seem to be very real at all.

He was drawn from his brooding thoughts when Conan gently shoved him aside. The older man and the guard he'd called over pilled more furs against the wall, then eased the sweating pilot into a slightly more upright position. His skin no longer had a bluish tint to it, but his eyes remained closed.

For Tom his world had become one of pain and confusion. He felt distantly betrayed by Chakotay, who seemed to be the source of the pain, but he couldn't summon much anger after he realized that blinding pain aside, he could breath again. He still felt the pain of fractured ribs and the strange heaviness in his chest lingered, but it was still a great improvement over the crushing weight he'd felt before. He began to drift away, lulled by the sound of soft voices around him. Too tired to even think, he let out a slight sigh, sinking deeper into the softness that surrounded him.

Someone pulled one of his eyelids open and Tom flinched away, groaning.

"Come on Tom, you need to wake up enough to drink this."

He felt someone - probably Chakotay - lifting up his head, and then the smooth rim of a cup was pressed to his lips. The liquid was warm, and reeked of things Tom didn't want to think about, but the taste wasn't too terrible so Tom obediently gulped it down, feeling the liquid soothe his sore throat as it slid down into his belly.

"It will take a few minutes to work." He heard a male voice saying, and he blinked, opening his eyes a little further. His view was fairly limited, and most of what he saw was a blurry ceiling and wall. A face appeared above him, and Chakotay's voice was in his ear.

"We're in the caves Tom. You'll be okay, just rest." The soft voice was most defiantly Chakotay, but the worried tone confused Tom. Why was the commander talking to him like that? He never did. Tom knew the Maquis captain didn't like him, even after he'd saved his life at Okampa. The feeling was fairly mutual. Thus, Chakotay´s attempts to calm him now had quite the opposite effect as Tom struggled to stay awake, determined to know why Chakotay was speaking in such a way.

"You do not need to fear, Tom Paris," said Conan and Tom looked at the other man for the first time. He pulled back a little, not liking the close familiarity the other man displayed, then realized with surprise that not only was his shirt missing, but he was practically lying on the commander´s chest.

Chakotay spoke more soothing words in Tom's ear, his strong arms keeping the younger man from squirming away and doing himself more harm. Groaning again the pilot tried to convince himself that this was a very bad dream, or very realistic hallucination. Probably brought on by Neelix's cooking he thought sleepily.

"Are you in much pain?" The strange man asked, and Tom jerked slightly, having almost forgotten he was there.

"You speak...English?" asked the dazed pilot.

"I believe so," Conan replied with a small smile. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," came Tom's automatic reply, and Conan gave a perfect imitation of an unconvinced Vulcan, raising a single brow. Chakotay chuckled slightly, and Tom looked with fascination at the floor.

"My chest hurts, but that's all."

"Uhm."

"Okay, I feel like the battered and bruised victim of a violent desert storm. Better?" Tom gasped out the end of the sentence, earning a scowl from Chakotay.

"The tea will help," Conan said, but it was obvious his mind was elsewhere. He frowned and put both hands to the ground, as if bracing himself for an impact. It didn´t come, but they all felt the slight tremors beneath them. Tom looked up in panic just as a loud rumble tore through the air. The guards stood in place, shocked expressions upon their face, until Conan barked at them, and they disappeared out the arched door way.

"I need to see what has happened," Conan turned back to them. "Do not fear, you are quite safe. Just stay here and rest, I´ll be back quickly." Without another word he was gone and Chakotay was left with an increasingly panicked Tom.

"Help me - up," Tom hissed as he struggled to stand, but Chakotay pushed him back down.

"No."

"What?"

"Stay put, Paris."

"Damn it, Chakotay - help me up, or shoot me, but either way do it fast," Tom growled, glaring at the commander. Chakotay returned his glare with the same resolve, then slowly let Tom go. Sighing, Tom tried to stand up, but without support it was almost impossible. Seeing the needle protruding from his chest only served to fuel his determination.

Chakotay watched his struggle and rolled his eyes in frustration at the pilot´s obstinence. He was about to end it, when Tom give up and dropped back to the furs beneath him. His fall was short but it still pushed the breath out of him, so when Chakotay pulled him back to a half-sitting position, he couldn´t really protest.

"I told you to stay down."

"I would´ve... made it... but you... drugged me," Tom gasped out. Sure enough his speech was slow and slurred, his thoughts muddled. The tea had taken away most of the pain, but much to Tom's dismay it was also robbing him of his consciousness.

On the verge of sleep, he saw that Conan returned. The man´s face was grim and Tom felt a pang of fear, but it quickly faded away. It was easy not to feel anything. Closing his eyes, he listened to the concerned voices as he drifted away.

"What happened?" Chakotay asked.

"The storm has gotten worse. We had to seal the entrance."

"So we´re trapped?"

"Until the storm ends - yes."

"What if it doesn't?"

As Tom drifted into sleep, he could hear the quiet reply: "Then we have a problem."

* * *

A/N-Liz: Thanks so much for all of your reviews! It's so great to know people are reading and to listen to their comments and suggestions as well. :-) This was a pretty long chapter and I know that we've just created more questions but I assure you, all of them will be answered eventually. Please keep reviewing!

A/N-Nicol: Though what Liz said, you can still ask questions, they often tell us what you anticipate or what passages made you intrigued. We´re still not finished, so reviews and comments are good. Tell you a secret - we write much better when we knew people like our work. So - R&R folks, we´re waiting.


	7. Chapter 7

Survivors - Past and Present 

by

Nicol Leoraine

Elizabeth Gilliam

aka VirtualQueens

Chapter 7

The world was black. There was a faint line as if to indicate a horizon, but no stars, no moon - nothing to break the monotonous black and grey. His body was floating aimlessly in the thick, oily air, hands and legs drifting in the weightlessness. For anyone else it would have been a liberating experience, freedom from the constant constraint of gravity. But Tom felt trapped.

Seeming to oblige his mind´s whim, the darkness shifted, and the faint outlines of walls appeared. They shimmered briefly, but Tom hardly noticed. Images were streaming past his eyes, but none of them made sense.

There was his father, dark and angry after one of their confrontations. The face leered at him, even as the dark walls morphed into the crumpled interior of a shuttle pod. He could smell the burning flesh of the other occupants, but he couldn't move, couldn't stop their pain.

Oh and don´t forget his time in prison, and the room-mates that shared it with him. Bitterly Tom tried to look away from the images of his past. But they continued to form in front of his eyes, the voices kept screaming. They were calling his name now, asking him to help them, screaming at him until he was sure his head would implode.

"No!" he shouted, but it came out as whisper, lost amid the voices of his past.

"Stop!" he screamed, ripping his hands out of their dark constraints and planting them over his ears. He felt the air leave his lungs, felt his lips forming the word, felt it leave his mouth. But the words he heard, the ones that penetrated his mind, were not the ones he had spoken.

"-a nightmare!" Someone was shouting, and Tom nodded slightly. Yes, it was a nightmare all right.

"Wake up, Tom."

Perhaps it was the use of his first name, or the fact that the voice that spoke it belonged no where in this hellish dream. Or maybe it was the pain.

Tom's eyes flew open as he fled the darkness and he looked up into Chakotay's angry face.

'Great. Now what did I do?' Tom wondered silently, trying to pull away before he realized he was trapped in the ex-Maquis tight grip.

"Lemmego!" Tom hissed. He was surprised when Chakotay obeyed, crawling backwards a few feet. Looking into his face again Tom had the distinct (and unnerving) feeling that Chakotay's anger wasn't directed at him. In fact, he seemed more concerned than anything.

"It's alright Tom. You were having a nightmare."

"I´m well aware of that fact." Tom retorted, gasping in pain at the end of his sentence. Glancing down at his chest he discovered that the needle was gone. His relief at having the thing out was short lived as his chest spasmed and a series of harsh coughs shook his body. With a moan of pure agony Tom curled in on himself, arms protectively circling his chest. It took almost a minute for the coughing to stop, and when it finally did he felt utterly drained.

"Here," a quite voice said, making Tom start slightly. It was Chakotay and he was holding out another repulsive smelling cup. "Conan said you should drink this."

"Who is Conan?"

Chakotay sighed as Tom pushed the cup away and tried to find a comfortable position among the furs. Aside from a single guard - the one who'd helped to hold Tom down earlier - they were alone. Conan had left some time ago, probably to check on the other entrances. Chakotay hadn't liked the look on his face when he'd left though. If the natives didn't know what was going on, it was undoubtedly bad.

But were they really natives?

While Tom had slumbered away the effects of the tea, Chakotay had spoken with Conan, and asked some questions that had been bothering him.

"Why are you the only one who speaks English?"

"I learned it from my...ancestor." Conan replied simply.

"These caves are huge." Chakotay said, changing the subject. "Do you live here all the time?"

"Yes and no."

Chakotay waved one hand, imploring the man to continue.

"These mountains...they are shaped like a circle." Conan drew a 'O' shape in the air. "But in the center, there are no mountains. The soil is good for growing things, and many rivers flow in through the area. We keep animals, grow plants for food, raise families. Then, when the storms come, we go to the caves. The rivers, they come straight through these caves, and there are vents to bring air in. There is even room for our animals. When the storms go we only come into the caves at night or when it rains."

"What of the city?"

"City?"

"The big, shining, blue place on the outside of the mountains."

Conan shrugged slightly. "My people do not venture there. The valley is very large, as is the system of caves, and there are...others...who live on the outside that we do not wish to meet. Furthermore, if one were to venture outside of the valley and the ring of mountains, then they would have much trouble finding adequate shelter from the storms."

Dropping the subject of the city, for the time being, Chakotay asked another question. "When did these storms start?"

Conan's brow furrowed as he gave Chakotay a questioning look.

"They have been here forever." Conan said after a moment. "Why do you ask, Chakotay? Where do you come from, that you don't know of the storms?"

Chakotay was silent, contemplating his answer. Conan seemed human enough, and spoke English, but he didn't seem to know of Earth, the Federation, starships, or anything else. It would, technically, be a violation of the Prime Directive to tell him about these things. But Chakotay really didn't feel much like a Starfleet officer at that moment. The Prime Directive was too far away from him right now, just like Voyager and the Alpha Quadrant. They were stranded, hopelessly lost, and two members of the away team were now trapped in a mysterious set of caves with the native people (humans?) who somehow spoke English.

"Did you come from the stars?" Asked Conan, breaking the silence. Chakotay looked up sharply, staring in shock. It was like the man could read his mind.

"W-what?"

Conan's face was serious, though Chakotay thought he could see a slight sparkle in his eyes.

"You are not from here Chakotay, nor is Tom Paris. Nor am I, or my people. Though-" he added in a contemplative voice "we've been here long enough to forget that."

"I don't - I don't understand," Chakotay stuttered, still not quite sure what he was supposed to say. This time Conan smiled with his mouth, even if it was a sad sort of smile.

"This planet. It is not our home. I know of other stars, of starships and of the war that forced the ancestors of my people out into space. I know because I learned from the healer that was my father, and from the journals of those before him."

"You're human."

"Yes. That you already know."

"Then you're from Earth."

"Earth." Conan said the word slowly, rolling it over in his mouth. "Yes." he said slowly "I believe I am."

"If you're from Earth, then how did you get here? It's a rather long way from home."

"That I do not know, Chakotay." Conan said with a sigh, rising to his feet as Tom began to groan and toss about on his bed of furs.

Tom mumbled something in his sleep, jerking away from Conan's gentle touch.

"Is he alright?" Chakotay asked, concerned by the flush of Paris' face.

"He has a fever. The dust has been known to infect those who inhale it, particularly those who are already weak." Conan sighed, bending his head close to the needle that still protruded from Tom's chest. He listened for a few moments, then tapped lightly on Tom's chest several times. Apparently satisfied he sat back on his heels, gently pulling away the cloths that secured the needle. The skin around it was slightly red.

"Hold him."

Chakotay did as he was told and Conan removed the needle in one swift motion, then covered the small wound with another portion of the green goo. With Chakotay´s help he bound wide strips of cloth around both the minor wound from the needle, and Tom's no doubt painful ribs. The pilot didn't even stir as they treated him, and that troubled Chakotay almost as much as the fever.

Conan watched the unconscious man´s breathing for several seconds then patted him lightly on the shoulder, a pleased look on his face.

"I will return in a while. If he awakens, there is more of the tea over by the fountains. It will help with the pain and with the fever. Try to keep him still but over there - " Conan waved at a door Chakotay hadn't seen before "There is a room where either of you may relieve yourselves."

"Where are you going?" Chakotay asked, not thrilled with the idea of being left alone with the sick and injured pilot. "What if he becomes worse?"

"Speak my name to Lander." Conan replied, pointing at the man who'd helped him with Tom earlier. He was sitting by the fountain now, drinking water from a silver cup. "He'll find me."

Chakotay had been on edge at first, but when no more tremors occurred, and Tom remained more or less asleep, he began to relax. Almost an hour passed, if he was guessing right, before Tom began to awaken. He'd just started to drift off to sleep himself, when Tom's whimpering woke him. The pilot was breathing hard, and tossing slightly, his throat emitting small, painful whimpers every few moments. Chakotay´s gentle attempts to awaken him were fruitless.

"No..." Tom pleaded with someone - or something - in his dream, and suddenly, Chakotay felt angry. Not at Tom (which had to be a first), but at the situation in general. His hand rested upon the pilot's bare stomach as he tried to restrain him and he could feel one of the ugly scars beneath his fingers. Looking down he realized it was fairly recent. What was Tom doing with a half healed wound from, if Chakotay wasn't seeing things, an Andorian hunting knife? And why hadn't he seen the doctor about it? Because Chakotay was quite certain that medical technology did not leave scars anymore. He wondered how the young helmsman had acquired the injury, and if it was a Maquis or Starfleet crewmember who had wielded the weapon. Or was it self inflicted? He was starting to realize that with Tom Paris you could never know.

"Earth to Commander." Paris waved one hand in front of his face and Chakotay snapped back to reality.

"Sorry Paris. You were saying?"

"No I was asking, but you didn't answer. Who's Conan?"

"Someone who just saved your life." Chakotay snapped, then paused, perplexed by his own behavior. Spirits, how he longed for a nice evening of quite meditation to clear his mind. But now was not the time, nor the place and all Chakotay felt was tiredness. It had only been a day since he'd last slept, but that day had been full of physical and mental activity with no time to relax. The fact that Torres and Kim were still missing also weighed heavily on his mind.

"I'm sorry Tom, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." Chakotay said a moment later. Looking up he caught sigh of Tom's fearful, childish expression, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the unreadable mask.

"It's alright Commander." Tom replied in a formal tone. "I'm used to it." he added in a mutter that Chakotay wasn't meant to hear. The former captain did though, and grimaced.

"Look Tom-" (when had he started using the pilots first name?) "We're both tired. You drink the tea and I'll tell you about Conan alright?"

Paris was curious, but he also recalled the sedative properties of the tea.

"You just want to knock me out so I'll shut up. Thanks, but I'll pass."

Chakotay shook his head, once again frustrated.

"Suit yourself Tom." He said, sitting down next to the pilot, leaning his back against the wall. Tom squirmed, because now the Commander was far too close. Hiding his shaking hands from view he tried to ignore the fact that not only was there another person in close proximity to him, but he couldn't see the Commanders face. But sitting up would be too painful, if even possible.

Finally Chakotay broke the tense silence.

"It looks like we've met another victim of the Caretaker."

Harry's teeth were grinding against one another as he clenched his jaw in an effort not to speak. His hands were curled into fists and he was sure his fingernails were drawing blood from the palm of his hand. Aiden had shot him several warning glances, none of which Orsen had seen. No, the older man was too busy poking B'Elanna with his feet to notice anything else. The half Klingon didn´t move, and the fact alarmed Kim even more. Torres wasn´t one to let herself beat up, so she was probably unconscious. Though Harry couldn't see any injuries other than a split lip and small gash on her head, he was concerned.

"Damn them, these Klingons are weaker than I thought," Orsen hissed and spit at B´Elanna.

Harry closely watched her face and saw a slight twitch of her mouth, recognized the fierce hate coming up. She was conscious, he realized. The knowledge had both calming and panicking effects on him as he knew she won´t wait for help. Orsen was preparing for another kick.

"Stop!" Harry shouted at him and saw B´Elanna stiffen as she registered his voice.

"Just... don´t hurt her anymore."

"Or what?" Orsen snapped. "You´ll kill me?"

"No. I´ll tell you what you want to hear."

Orsen smiled and just for a good measure kicked B´Elanna once more. She forced herself to stifle the grunt as her body was turned and she lay face down on the cold ground. She could feel every step Orsen made and was preparing herself. Only two more, you impudent pahtk, and I´ll get you, she thought with a malicious glee. He now had his back to her - a big mistake! B´Elanna almost laughed. She had to restrain herself - one step - take another step so I can kill you.

She felt the vibration, knew he was in the right place, but she didn´t act. Something was happening and B´Elanna was too confused to react. The ground was shaking. She could feel it, her whole body was on the ground, feeling the vibration growing.

"What-" Orsen backed away and B´Elanna growled, but it was lost in the rumble. He was out of her reach.

The shaking stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving all the occupants of the room shocked.

"What was it?" Aiden asked in strained voice.

"I don´t know. But I´m going to find out. You stay here, Aiden. Watch that Klingon - if she moves, shoot her. I don´t care if she lives or not."

As the door closed, Harry let out a relieved sigh. Whatever was responsible for the shakes, he was extremely grateful. Though Aiden looked troubled, he also seemed relieved and neared the "unconscious" Klingon in attempt to check her.

Harry didn´t had a time to warn him, and B'Elanna felled the man with a move too fast to see. With a feral growl, she lunged at him, her hands gripping his neck. The phaser hit the floor just a second after its owner. Harry watched it in a dazed sort of surprise and only regained his senses when Aiden's face turned from red to blue.

"Stop! Stop it, you´ll kill him!" he cried out, rushing over to the pair.

"That´s the point, Starfleet," Torres growled.

"No! He helped me! Let him go B´Elanna!"

With a snort, Torres released the man from her death grip. She was still kneeling on his chest, but as Aiden gasped for breath, the blue in his lips faded away.

"You have ten seconds to tell me who you are, what you want and why are you keeping us here like prisoners. After that, I´ll kill you."

"I´m - Aiden," the man gasped out, staring up at B´Elanna with a look of fear that couldn't possible be anything other than genuine.

"B´Elanna, come on," Harry pleaded. "He opened my handcuffs. I promised him you won´t kill him."

B´Elanna shot Kim a bewildered look, then turned back to Aiden.

"Seven seconds," she prompted.

"I- I don´t know... what do you want," he stuttered.

"Why did you shoot at us?"

"You´re - Klingon!" Aiden replied, as if it was enough of an explanation.

"Your point being!"

"The Federation... is at war with you!"

The mention of the Federation surprised both Harry and B´Elanna. Torres shook her head in confusion.

"That was decades ago! We´re allies now,"

"Federation? But how did you get to the Delta Quadrant?" Harry asked.

"We... we were at war. That was the reason my ancestors came to this world - to find peace."

"Oh, I´ll guess. The Caretaker?"

Aiden was looking more confused by the moment.

"I don´t understand you. But if you won´t believe I´m no threat to you, Orsen will return and kill both of you."

"He´s right, Torres. We need to get out of there and find Chakotay and Tom."

B´Elanna rolled her eyes, wondering just what they taught at the starfleet academy these days. Informing the enemy that there were more of them had definitely been on her don't do list. Harry unfortunately had not had the foresight to realize this.

"Okay. What do you propose?" B´Elanna asked as she pulled Aiden up from the floor with a less than gentle grip on his arm.

"So the war really ended?" Aiden looked at Harry for a reply.

"Yes. Mostly because we found new enemies."

"Plenty of them," Torres added and glared at her handcuffed hands.

"Open my restraints."

Aiden pulled out the same key he used on Harry´s cuffs and freed the woman's hands, stepping hurriedly away when he was done. B´Elanna glared at him as she rubbed her raw wrists.

"Your friends - if they survived the storm - would probably head for the other set of caves. In that case, they´re with Conan."

"That´s the man you mentioned before," Harry commented and Aiden nodded.

"We need to find him. I have learned much in my time on this side of the hills, and I am certain that your arrival has triggered these storms, and the other strange events. If that is indeed the case, you must leave. The sooner the better."

B´Elanna didn´t argue with that.

"How can we get out of here?"

"Follow me."

Aiden used another silver key to open the door, and poked his head out to look around. The narrow hallway (no graceful halls here) looked vacant but Aiden could hear high, nervous voices from the great hall.

"It's clear," he hissed, trying not to notice that B'Elanna was pointing the phaser at him with steady hands. She motioned him forward and the stepped out into the hallway. Aiden led them away from the torchlight and noise, his steps quick.

Aiden abruptly stopped and Torres almost bumped into him.

"What-" she asked, when a cold voice sounded through the cave.

"So, you´re the traitor, Aiden. I´ll have to kill you for that." Orsen stepped out from the shadows, an ugly smile marring his face. He held a phaser, and this time, it wasn't pointed at the Starfleet officer.

For a moment the passage way was utterly silent. Then the blue spark of a phaser cut through the air with a faint hiss. One body hit the floor.

TBC

pahtk (general klingon insult, sort of like saying 'he's a piece of trash' or something.)

A/N-Liz: We got some of our medical stuff wrong but oh well we're not doctors. Hope you like this chapter, I think it's my favorite so far. Please review and tell us what you thought, or just to say that you read it. :-) and many thanks to those who have already reviewed!

A/N-Nicol: This chapter is dedicated to my friend - you know who you are - broad grin - who will celebrate her fifteenth birthday. My Best Wishes to you.

Ah, and a bunch of cool reviews would really make someone happy... mostly me and Liz:-)


	8. Chapter 8

Survivors - Past and Present 

by

Nicol Leoraine  
Elizabeth Gilliam  
aka VirtualQueens

Chapter 8

For a moment the passage way was utterly silent. Then the blue spark of a phaser cut through  
the air with a faint hiss. One body hit the floor.

"Is he dead?" B'Elanna asked as she lowered the stolen phaser in her hand. Aiden stared at her with a mixed lookof surprise and shock, but quickly shook his head.

"I don't think so."

B´Elanna cursed and aimed again, but Harry touched her arm, giving her a warning shake  
of head.

"Torres - you can't," he mumbled.

"What?"

"You can´t kill him when he´s already unconscious. It's a violation of the directive.He's unconscious he's not a threat, and you're only allowed to kill in self defense," Harry hissed nervously, watching as Aiden  
neared the still breathing body of Orsen. "Believe me, I would be happy to do it myself," it was a half lie, because as much as Harry disliked the man, he couldn't imagine killing someone in cold blood. "-but I won´t, not when he´s unconscious and incapable of defending  
himself."

The half-Klingon growled and walked up to the man. Aiden was currently going through his  
clothes - running his hands up and downthe man´s vest. B´Elanna frowned as she watched, her phaser slowly rising until it was pointing at Aiden's head.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for something," Aiden replied distractedly, his movements becoming more frantic with every passing moment. When Orsen's eyes fluttered open B'Elanna cursed and hit the man with the but of the phaser, knocking him unconscious again. Aiden hardly seemed to notice, as his fingers closed around the thing he was searching for. With a large smile he pulled out a little blue crystal from a secret pocket in Orsen's vest. After examining the thing for a brief instant Aiden stashed it away in one of his own pockets, hiding it from his companions curious gazes.

"What was that?" B'Elanna asked, and Aiden jumped, noticing her close proximity.

"Uh - nothing." He lied, immediately knowing it was the wrong answer as the woman lunged at him, pinning him to the cave wall. He let out a strangled cry and looked at Harry, who seemed just as surprised at the half-Klingons abrupt action.

"What did you put in your pocket?" hissed B'Elanna in a highly dangerous tone.

"Key - to the City." Aiden gasped out, sliding to the floor when B'Elanna released the grip upon his throat.

"City? What do you know about it?"

"No time." Aiden coughed out, struggling to his feet. "We must find Conan."

"B'Elanna I don't mean to interrupt, but...someone's coming." Harry hissed, instantly bringing the other two people to his side. Aiden motioned them forward and the trio of people jogged their way though the tunnels. The passage ways they were in now were rougher and unfinished, as if someone had never gotten around to smoothing the walls and floor.

The passage way had been fairly steep, and by the time it had started to level out the voices behind them had faded into nothingness. But still Aiden led them on, only stopping when B'Elanna had physically hauled him to a stand still, glaring at him as she wheezed in exhaustion.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked, rubbing his ankle. It was throbbing painfully, but he hadn't complained. Though his limping gate wasn't going unnoticed by either of his companions.

"The other set of caves." came the curt answer.

"Why?" B'Elanna asked, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Conan is there. We need his help. And if your friends survived the storms, they will be with him."

"Who's this Conan?"

"My-" Aiden hesitated for a moment then continued "My friend. He is the healer for the others. A good man."

"Yeah, shoots at anyone that moves?" B'Elanna mumbled to herself, but Aiden heard and shook his head.

"No, not like that. Not like Orsen. He is a wise man, he would never hurt anyone."

Aiden's fierce protection of the other man surprised B'Elanna.

"Conan will help us." Aiden said firmly. "He has to, otherwise..."

"Otherwise what?" Harry asked suspiciously, but Aiden didn't reply. He had risen to his feet, eyes once again wide. To Harry's surprise, B'Elanna did the same, as both she and Aiden pressed their palms to the nearest wall. He was just about to ask what they were doing, when he felt it.

The first tremor wasn't large, and though it startled Harry badly, it ended quickly. But they had hardly drawn their next breath when a larger tremor shook them off their feet, leaving three dusty forms sprawled on the shaking ground, fervently hoping the labyrinth of tunnels was as sturdy as it appeared to be.

When the shaking stopped a minutes later the trio cautiously sat up, coughing and dusting their clothing off.

"Does this happen often?" Harry inquired as Aiden helped him to his feet. His face was dirty from the dust and his neatly combed hair was now standing in spikes all over his head. B'Elanna might have laughed had she not know they all looked the same.

"No." Aiden said in response to Harry's question. "I remember it happening only once, after some of the stars fell from the sky. A meteor shower is what Conan called it. But the tremors and storms were not this bad." Aiden said, a troubled look upon his face.

"We need to move, our time is running out."

"What do you mean, running out!"

But Aiden ignored them, jogging forward with purposeful strides. With a grunt Harry and B'Elanna followed their guide.

When Aiden reached a sharp turn in the tunnel, he paused, squinting. B'Elanna stopped a few feet behind him, pointing her phaser into the murky darkness beyond. The shadows there were moving, light appearing briefly as they heard the hard breathing of a man. Aiden cocked his head, Harry leaned heavily against the wall and B'Elanna flicked the phaser's safety control off. The shadow grew larger.

As the form of a man took shape B'Elanna aimed, and Aiden realized the half klingons intentions. With a cry of NO, he knocked it out of her grasp, and the blue bolt of energy went wildly off to the side, charring a pile of brown stones. B'Elanna growled at the young man, fist already raised to strike him, when the man spoke.

"Aiden? What's going on?" He asked, walking slowly towards the group.

"Conan?" Aiden asked, looking up. And then, much to the surprise of his companions, his face broke out into a large smile and he lunged at the older man, sweeping him up in a tight hug. "Father!"

* * *

"Where the hell is Conan?" Chakotay muttered, looking at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn't glass, but more of that silver metal, polished to an impossibly high shine. It was very reflective, giving the commander a far clearer image of his haggard face than he would have wished for. The former Marquis was in the 'bathroom', or at least what seemed to be the alien equivalent ofa bathroom, washing his face while a groggy Pairs answered the call of nature. The 'bathroom' was almost as big as Chakotay's cabin on Voyager, and lit by some sort of luminosit moss that glowed brightly, even though no light shown though the tightly shut wooden door. Like the other rooms Chakotay had seen most of the fixtures were carved out of the stone, or made from the silver metal. There were no water pipes or taps but a gentle flow of water fell into a series of stone basins, next to which the reflective metal had been fixed to the wall. In the middle of the room was a circular tub several yards in width and length and at least three feet deep.

"Think that's their version of a bathtub? Or an economy sized swimming pool?" Tom asked, dipping his hands in the water next to Chakotays. The pilot kept his fingers submerged for a moment, then splashed the cool water onto the flushed skin of his neck and face.

As Chakotay watched Tom he inwardly cursed the storms. If their medical equipment was working, Tom wouldn't look like death warmed over.

He was shirtless, in a futile attempt to remain cool, and the exposed skin was pale, except for his fever flushed cheeks and the collection of scars on his chest, abdomen and back. His eyes had a glassy quality about them and what was left of his uniform was soaked in sweat. And, as some sort of cruel cosmic joke, the tightness in his chest had returned, reminding Tom of one truly miserable winter at Auckland when he'd caught pneumonia. It had taken the warden a week to notice that he was 'slightly' ill. He'd started a fight in the mess hall, and finally been sent, coughing and wheezing, to the prisons medical facilities. It had scared him then, the inability to breath without pain, but it scared him much more now, because there was no get out of hell free card, no quick pass to a med bay with semi competent doctors and powerful hyposprays.

Splashing another palm full of water over his face Tom glanced at Chakotay. "Uhm, I don't want to whine or anything," Tom started, pausing for a quick breath every third or fourth word "but...do you have some sort of plan?"

Chakotay looked at the pilot, who was swaying slightly and looking increasingly pale. Tom gripped the stone water basin for support, but otherwise didn't move.

"I...no. Not really. Conan said we're trapped in the caves, until the storm ends. That could be in an hour, or a week. I need to talk to Conan, see if there's a chance that Torres and Kim are still alive. And if so, where they might be hiding from this storm."

"What if they're already here?"

Chakotay looked sharply at the pale faced pilot. He hadn't thought the fever was that high...

"Tom...look around."

"Not here, here."Tom replied in an exasperated tone. "I mean, that they might be in anther room just down the hall and we wouldn't know it. All we have to go on is the word of some English speaking medicine man."

"He saved your life Tom." Chakotay replied, letting some of his frustration leak into his voice as he helped the pilot out of the bathroom. Paris just snorted.

"Yeah and I really appreciate it, trust me. But it would be helpful if he'd let us out of these rooms so we can try to findHarry and B'Elanna, or at least contact Voyager."

"I agree with you Tom." Chakotay said, grabbing the pilots shoulder as he swayed dangerously. "But you're not exactly in any condition to travel and even though I doubt Lander would shoot us if we wandered off, I'm not honestly sure about the others. So we'll wait here for Conan."

Tom glared half heartedly at the commander, but didn't protest as Chakotay helped him back to the pile of furs. Lander wandered away from the fountainlong enough to silently helped Chakotay maneuver Pairs into a comfortable position. Then the guard returned to his own pile of furs by the door and began to, as far as Chakotay could tell, count sheep in an attempt to fall asleep.

"So - you think - they're from Earth?" Tom asked, gasping from the exsirtion of moving.

"Looks like it." Chakotay replied, sniffing at the contents of the cup Conan had left for Tom. With a grimace he handed it to Tom.

"Doesn't smell very good, but it helped you last time so you should probably drink it."

"I - said - I don't - want it!" Tom protested, coughing violently. "You've already drugged me twice - not again!"It took him a while to stop coughing thoughand Chakotay used his exhaustion afterwards to put the cup to his lips. Tom gulped the liquid, thinking it was water, but water never smelled like three day old socks.

"Don't glare at me Lieutenant." Chakotay said in a stern tone. "You're no good to meor the rest of the teamin this condition."

"Aye, Commander." Tom snarled, hopeing that someday soon he'd have a chance to repay the Marquis Captain for his 'gentle care'. Tom just hoped it would be on a very primitive planet, with plenty of old fashioned needles. And leeches. Ya...needles and leeches and stuff.

Tom stopped his wandering mind, blaming it on the cursed tea. He must have been smiling thoughbecause the commander was throwing him suspicious looks. Oh well, the tea was working fast and already Tom could feel his defenses falling. He wasexhausted and the tea made it so easy to just let his facade fall away. He could feel Chakotay watching him, watch his walls crumble, and inwardly groaned. He lay still, pretending to sleep in hopes of avoiding the conversation he knew as coming.

"That's a nice collection of scars you have there." Chakotay said slowly, and Tom swallowed. "Pretty unusual to have that many..."

Tom remained silent, his eyes closed. Maybethe commander would just stop, thinking he was asleep.

"And here, this one -" Tom felt a cool finger on his stomach and jerked, spoiling the sleeping charade. "Looks pretty recent," the commander continued. "The Doc did a pretty bad job with it didn't he? Maybe we should have B'Elanna check out his programming when we get back."

Of course Chakotay was well aware that the EMH had never seen the injury.

"What do you want Chakotay?" Tom hissed, pulling his knees up to his chest, blocking Chakotay's view.

"I want to know why you didn't report what must have been a very violent, and recent, case of assault. And I want to know who did it, and if it was someone from my crew."

"I thought there was no Chakotay's or Janeway's crew. Didn't you two decide to mash us all together in one big happy family?" Tom said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Chakotay paused for a moment before answering, apparently not minding Tom's artful change of subject. "I'm not going to lie and say that I was pleased when I saw you on Voyager. And I'm not so naive as to think that we'll become good friends either. But we have a long journey ahead of us. I don't think killing the pilot will make it any faster, or easier."

Tom would have snorted, but he was entering that fuzzy state between sleep and wakefulness and didn't have the energy. Instead he just exhaled slowly.

"Well then Chakotay, you're the first. Now, if you don't mind - I'm a bit tired." With that Tom pulled one of the light, tightly woven blankets over his bare chest and closed his eyes.

He was silent for several minutes, long enough to make Chakotay think that he may have actually fallen asleep.

And then, out of the blue, he spoke.

"I didn't crash the shuttle. Not this time."

"What?"

"It wasn't pilot error." Tom said wearily, his eyes still closed. "Everything was fine until we entered the upper atmosphere, and those freakish storms started. Then when we hit the lower atmosphere," one shoulder moved in a slight shrug "everything shut down. I'll bet a months worth ofreplicator rations that whatever is causing these storms knocked us down to."

Chakotay agreed with the pilot, but the other mans wording worried him. Tom's mask was cracking and Chakotay didn't like what he saw beneath it.

"And I think," Tom murmured, almost asleep again, "that whatever it is, it's getting worse." Chakotay was confused for a moment until he felt the vibrations in the wall behind him. When the ground started to shake a moment later, the word had already formed in his mind. Earthquake.

* * *

A/N - Liz: Blame the long delay (and any mistakes)on the lunatic in residents, me. Between turning 15 (and all the lengthy contemplation that comes with said change in age) and having the weather warm up to resemble hell frozen over (mud...and mud...and more freaking mud) and simply being rather lazy, this chapter was a little long in coming. Oh and Nicol is having trouble getting access to a computer so send good computer vibes her way. Both of us request that you leave some reviews for us and brighten our otherwise mundane days. Hope you enjoy this chapter, as you can see our intrepid not-quite-hero's will soon bere-joining one another. Will sparks fly, or will things just smolder until the inevitable explosion occurs! 


	9. Chapter 9

Survivors - Past and Present

**by**

**Nicol Leoraine**

**Elizabeth Gilliam**

**aka VirtualQueens**

**Chapter 9**

* * *

In Tom's already overtaxed mind, the start of the quake triggered utter panic. He could _feel _the walls crashing in, the air disappearing. He let out a strangled cry and reached out for anything solid to hold on to, something to anchor him in the real world and draw him away from living nightmares and the dark abyss of claustrophobia. The first thing his hand touched happened to be Chakotay's arm, and he latched onto it with something equivalent to a Klingon death grip. Painful, to say the least. The commander couldn't suppress a hiss of pain as the pilot´s nails dug into his arm. The other man was pale, his eyes wide and his breathing ragged.

"Tom - You have to calm down, you're hyperventilating." Chakotay said, though he was practically yelling in order to be heard over the grumbling from the earth, as another shudder went through the ground. It was stronger than the one before, and if they hadn't already been sitting they would have gone sprawling.

"Paris!"

The pilot only whimpered in reply. It was almost like...No, Chakotay shook his head and dismissed the idea. He'd seen Tom spend hours in cramped shuttles during his brief time in the Maquise, and on Voyager. He'd never had any problems, he couldn't be claustrophobic. None the less, the pilot had stopped whimpering and was valiantly working on an escape attempt. It would have helped if he'd been standing. His eyes were glassy and darted about like he was watching a sparing match and his pupils were dilated to the point that Chakotay doubted he could see very much at all.

"Stop moving!" Chakotay shouted, pulling Tom back to the furs and practically laying on top of him to keep the struggling man immobile.

The heat he felt coming off his body said much about his state of mind and Chakotay quickly forgot his earlier resolution to lock the pilot in the brig for the next ten years.

Tom´s struggles stopped as suddenly as they had started, and he lay limp, eyes closed, as sweat poured off his heaving chest. Hesitantly Chakotay released him, realizing the quake had stopped. The ground was once again steady, but the rumbling had been replaced with the gurgling sound of rushing water. Frantic voices came from the hall as two young men, almost boys, ran inside. They were probably looking for Conan, but found only the strangers from the storm, and Larden. The later was picking himself up off the floor and rubbing a bruised chin. After a flow of gibberish, Larden waved the young men off and limped over to Chakotay, looking at him and Paris with concern.

"Conan." Chakotay coughed out, wishing the dust would clear. "Find Conan."

Larden nodded, then pointed at the hall and shook his head firmly, as if to say they should not venture there. Chakotay let out an exhausted sigh.

"Fine. Just find Conan."

The native man frowned slightly, then said something that sounded almost reassuring. Then, with a friendly pat on the shoulder, Chakotay was left alone with Paris.

"Tom?"

The pilot just moaned in reply, and rolled onto his side. Chakotay could almost see the waves of heat pouring off him from his rising fever. There was a little tea left but it seemed powerless against the infection that raged through Paris's body, and it only paused the fever for a few hours, before it's effects vanished.

Standing with a little more effort than usually required, the commander looked around. A find dust coated everything, but the walls and roof seemed stable enough, and he couldn't see any cracks. That however seemed to be a small blessing, for the fountain was silent, it's water gone. Where the liquid had disappeared to, Chakotay didn't know. He wasn't sure he wanted to. It would take a powerful current to move the water through all the rooms, and an even more powerful quake to divert it.

Chakotay sighed slightly and picked up one of the silver bowls Conan had used earlier, and Paris's discarded vest. He'd get water from the bathroom, where he could hear the faint sounds as it ran from basin to basin. Paris needed something to drink, and he'd wet down the vest, and try to get the fever under control.

The heat was suffocating, it was harder and harder to breath. When he opened his eyes, everything was spinning, the walls coming closer and closer, the shadows threatening. Tom let out a whine and tried to pull away, to crawl somewhere safe. But there were only walls, strange light and the suffocating heat. No Chakotay, no Voyager - no weird people with faintly familiar languages.

Using the wall to pull himself upright, Tom dazedly searched for his shirt, or vest, but found it missing.

"To hell with it," he mumbled. He just wanted his comm badge, but realized they probably took it. Who they were and why they left him alone was not an answerable question. One stumbling step after the other, he made his way out of the room.

His vision was blurry and everything looked kind of funny, out of proportion, so when he passed a young boy, it looked like a huge, mis-shappen alien. Tom jerked back from the being and started running. He stumbled several times, even fell but quickly stood and resumed his flight. Nobody passed him, and he couldn't possibly know that two tunnels to his left in the great hall of stone and silver practically every person in this community was gathered, chattering worriedly about the recent happenings. Tombecame lost in a dispiritingly short amount of time, but kept running, the only thing on his mind being fresh air and wide open spaces.

When he ran into something heavy and solid he would have ignored it, but for the fact the collision knocked him to his butt. When his eyes cleared of stars and dust, he gasped out a surprised: "You!"

* * *

"Father!" B'Elanna growled, and shook her head in disbelief. The two men did bear some resemblance to one another - mostly in the resolute set of their mouths and shape of their eyes. But Aiden's youth made him taller and stronger, and the family resemblance hard to distinguish upon first glance. He was now hugging his father with such joy that B'Elanna wondered how long it had been since the two had last seen one another.

"Well. I didn't expect that." Harry admitted in a quite voice as the two men started talking in their odd language, simply gibberish to the Starfleet officer's ears. B'Elanna let out a warning growl and twitched the phaser in the direction of Aiden and his father. The older man looked at her, his eyebrows raised, but his reaction wasn't as strong as the others had been.

"You're a-"

"Half-Klingon. B'Elanna Torres," Harry introduced them, yelping a little as the woman's elbow locked with his ribs. "I'm Harry Kim. So... you are Conan?"

The man in question smiled a little and looked at his son questioningly. They traded several words.

"I'm glad to meet you. Are you with a group of two others?"

Torres frowned at the phrasing, but nodded.

"Where are they? What did you do with them?" she turned the phaser so it pointed back at Aiden, but Conan didn't seem to notice.

"Your friends are with my men. They are safe, though the one called Paris is ill and injured. Do you want to see

them?"

"Of course," Harry replied before B'Elanna could say something inappropriate.

"Lead the way," the half klingon muttered.

"Does Orsen know of your absence, my son?" Conan asked while they walked, at a gentle pace.

"I'm afraid so, Father. When we... found those strangers," he carefully avoided looking at the still fuming B'Elanna. "Orsen wanted to question them. He suspects that their arrival disturbed the earth, though I had told him nothing of our knowledge.I have to admit, that I was fairly surprised by what these two had to tell us. Did you know that the Klingons are no longer threat to our people?"

Conan shook his head, then asked in their own language:

"And why do you believe them, Aiden?"

"Because he looks worth trusting," he pointed at Harry, who smiled sheepishly, not knowing what the men were saying about him. "And she... didn't kill me right away. It was a long time ago that our people and Klingons started fighting. It seems unlikely for a war to last so long. And the man called her half-Klingon.I take this to mean that one parent was a human, for she does not look like a cross breed of any other race."

Conan seemed satisfied with this answer.

"I would prefer if you talked in English," B'Elanna growled and jabbed Aiden with the phaser. He gave an infuriatingly calm little frown, and then shrugged slightly.

"As you wish."

"How did you find our friends?" Harry asked after a moment of silence.

"We were returning to the caves and found them, followed by the storm. We took them inside. They're waiting in the Small Hall."

"So, you didn't shoot at them?" B'Elanna asked, glaring at Aiden, who blushed.

"No, why would have we? They were no threat to us."

"I just thought it might be a family trait," she replied sourly. Conan frowned at her, then at his son. Aiden shrugged.

"I was a surprised, father. I've never seen a Klingon before, and surely wasn't expecting one to arrive now. And you know Orsen - he would shoot his own brother if he spoke a wrong word."

Conan sighed at the reply, knowing well enough what his brother in law was capable of.

"Do you know what is causing these earthquakes?" Harry asked as they continued to walk.

"Is - Chakotay - your... chief?"

Harry chuckled and nodded.

"Close enough."

"Then it will be most reasonable to talk about that matter in his presence. If I'm right, then we won't have much time to discuss this and I will not waste that time saying things twice."

They just turned the corner when B'Elanna collided with someone. She kept her balance, but the other one stumbled and fell. It took several seconds for her to recognize the face.

"You!" Tom Paris asked, his eyes unnaturally wide, before his body betrayed him in another coughing fit.

* * *

"By Spirits, I swear I'll strangle him with my own two hands," Chakotay cursed as he ran through a tunnel. Reaching a crossroad he stopped and shook his head in frustration. How was he to know which way Paris had chosen? He'd left the room for just a moment to get water, and when he returned, Tom was gone.

That was maybe ten minutes ago - though it already felt like an hour. Now he stood in a circular room where four different tunnels converged, each one with the risk that he'd become lost, or buried or eaten by some mutant bat. No, this was not a good situation at all. Wearily, the ex-Maquis sat down and leaned against the cold wall. How he longed for a hot cup of tea, a long shower, and some time to meditate, and confer with his sprit guide.

He closed his eyes only for a second - yet it was some time later, when the sounds of approaching voices awoke him from a deep slumber. Chakotay jumped to his feet, reaching for his phaser, only to realize it wasn't there. He pressed himself up against the wall and listened.

"Damn it, why is he so heavy?" it was a woman's voice, one Chakotay had hoped, but not expected, to hear.

"Son, help her. It is not far now. I must ask Chakotay how your friend came to be in such a distant passage way...and alone."

"He's not our friend." B'Elanna muttered in a voice too soft for any but the semi-lucid Paris to hear. "Chakotay probably got sick of him." she added in a louder tone.

Conan seemed to take her seriously though, because he shook his head in a thoughtful manner. "I do not believe that Chakotay is the sort of man that would do such a thing. But you know him better than I." he conceded.

Deciding this was as good a time as any to make an entrance, the former Maquis captain stepped out of the shadows, directly into the path of the small party. "B'Elanna? Harry?"

Torres, who was supporting a half-conscious Paris looked at him first with confusion, then with a delighted smile.

"Good to see you, Commander," she said in light voice, "I was afraid you'd chosen to face the storm rather than share a room with this one," and she dug her elbow into Tom, who looked up dazedly.

"Hey, Commander, look w'at I found," he slurred out and the half-Klingon rolled her eyes.

"More like what we found, Chakotay. Really, how could you put up with him for so long?"

"He was mostly drugged," Chakotay replied in serious tone, taking the pilot's weight off of B'Elanna's shoulders and transferring it to his own. The engineer watched him with a surprised, 'just what the hell is going on here' sort of look, then shook her head in confusion.

Harry, who was favoring his leg more than before, limped close to her.

"At least we're together," he said, glad to find that both the Commander and Tom were alive and more or less in one piece. It was reassuring to know they once again had a leader, even if it wasn't the captain.

"Ah, and who is this?" Chakotay asked, looking at Aiden, who was examining his tattoo with un-concealed interest.

"I am Aiden, the son of Conan and Patricia. What does your tattoo mean?"

"It's an...uh, a mark of a tribe I belong to."

"Interesting. Has everyone in your tribe such a marking?"

Before Chakotay could reply, Tom spoke.

"We're all marked in some way," he slurred, sounding gloomy. " 'cept for Harry. He didn' make an' mistakes. Not like me. Nobody died' cuz of him. He isn't a traitor either. You hear that Conan?" the pilot continued, "Harry's a good kid."

Harry blushed at Tom's words, and Chakotay paled, but neither said anything. The walk continued in silence, Tom having given into the darkness and the others caught up in their own thoughts about one thing or another.

After a while Chakotay asked Harry and B'Elanna where exactly they'd been and they gladly told him.

* * *

"We must talk. Now."

They had returned to the hall that Chakotay and Paris had been in, passing Lander on the way. The man had chattered something nervously at Conan, watching Aiden and B'Elanna with distrust. Whatever Conan said seemed to sooth him and the tall man disappeared on some errand.

The still unconscious form of Tom was gently laid by Aiden and Chakotay upon the pile of furs, while Lander returned with more furs, blankets and a tray of food. The man deposited all of these items, and a leather drawstring bag bulging with items, just inside the doorway, then disappeared again. Conan removed a length of white cloth and a stone jar of goo from the bag and handed it to Chakotay, motioning to the half-asleep Harry and his swollen ankle. While Chakotay tended to Harry's leg, B'Elanna washed in the adjacent room and then returned, hesitantly picking at a piece of fruit from the plate Lander had brought. She had an urge to make a joke - preferably about Paros - but the pilot's pasty color and labored breathing made her hesitate. In the relative brightness of the room she could see the scars that covered his chest, abdomen and wrapped around to his back. As she peeled a purple spotted fruit she wondered just how the young man had come to have such a large number of ugly scars on his body. A few of them looked recent too. Now she wasn't one to stop a little fight between those not quite friends but not really enemies, but she'd never condone nasty weapons like those needed to leave Paris's scars, at least not between the crew of one ship. She didn't like him, but even she was repulsed by the idea of trying to kill Tom, or even cause injuries severe enough to leave the scars she saw on him now.

Pushing away these thoughts, as if they might infect her, she looked away from the delirious pilot, trying not to let her sympathy show.

It was easier to concentrate on other, less emotionally confusing things, so she watched Aiden, trying to discern if he was hiding something or not.He still hadn't shown them the crystal - the little blue thing he'd claimed was the key to the city.

"This conversation has been too long in coming, and for that I am sorry," Conan said as he poured the tea into a silver cup and walked over to Tom. He gently lifted the pilot's head and put the cup to his lips, urging him to drink the liquid. Tom grimaced but choked down the tea, too confused to fight. Conan listened to his breathing and then, with a half satisfied shake of his head, sat next to his son.

"I think our first problem is the storm - and the earthquake. Do they relate?" Chakotay asked.

"I believe so," Conan said.

"How? I mean - why now?"

"Because of your arrival, Chakotay. If the writings are true, then the shield is what is causing the storms and the earthquake."

"Shield?"

"What writings?"

"In the Chamber of knowledge. There is a writing on the walls, and some on stone tablets.The knowledge of how to read the language has been lost to us, but some has been passed through the generations by stories, and there are pictures along with the words. Many seasons ago there were other people living on this world, not human people. They were the builders of the city, these caves and the water system that keeps these rooms, and those in the city,from becoming parched. Those beings left this world a long time ago, we do not know why. But they left the shield on, perhaps to protect their city. Our ancestors arrived some time later, when the wilds had started to take over what was left. They crashed in a huge ship during a storm that supposedly lasted for weeks. But our people were strong and they survived and adapted to life here." Conan paused, taking a sip of water. "After that the storms came with every circulation of the moon. They last from one to four days. Sometimes there are also earthquakes. I lived through two - both times following a meteor shower. My parents and their parents lived through another four. But these quakes were mild, and never occurred twice in one day.

"So..." Harry said slowly "If we can turn off the shield we could probably hail Voyager, right?" he asked, earning a glare from both Chakotay and B'Elanna.

"Ensign Kim," Chakotay hissed, stressing the young man's rank "I know you're aware of the Prime Directive."

Harry had the good grace to look embarrassed at the reprimand.

"I don't understand your words, Chakotay," Conan started, "but I have told you all that I know. If you're afraid of what I don't know, then please spare yourself the agony. I'm very well aware you're not from this world. As I'm aware that we came from another planet. In that case, I would be more than surprised to learn you don't have a ship somewhere among the stars. Or do you have the skill of flying un-aided?"

This time it was Chakotay who blushed, while Harry heard a slight chuckle coming from the furs. He turned and was surprised to find Tom awake - and looking lucid at that. Tom winked at him, raising one finger to his mouth in an order to keep silent, then closed his eyes and resumed his pretense of sleep. It was easier to listen than participate in the conversation - and much more fun. He wasn't feeling up to a verbal sparring match with B'Elanna or Chakotay anyways

"Maybe we don't need to turn down the shield," Harry mused. "The storms will die down and we can try and get back to Voyager."

"If the shield is active, we won't be able to contact Voyager - storm or no storm," B'Elanna protested. "We can't

beam up and if the shuttle is in the same state as our other technology, we won't be using it to go anywhere. We'll be stranded- not to mention the chance that the Captain will send down another away team."

"Or the fact that the shield may react more violently to the presence of Voyager or even another shuttle." Tom said, opening his eyes. Despite his weariness, he felt the need to speak.

"Glad you joined us," B'Elanna grumbled. Tom shot her a look that might have been annoyed but just looked sleepy, then ignored her.

"He is right, though," Conan spoke. "Is your ship...Voyager...bigger than the ship you landed here?"

"Yeah, you can say that."

"You saw what the first shuttle caused. There's no way to tell how the presence of something larger will affect the shield."

"Father is right. We need to turn it off - the sooner the better," Aiden said. As if to prove his words, the ground shook again, just slightly, like a person who's just waking up.

Everyone braced themselves for another large quake, but the shaking stopped almost immediately.

"We must go." Conan said suddenly, rising to his feet. "Chakotay I must show you the Chamber. Perhaps you will understand the language, and if you do not, then maybe you will know more of the drawings that accompany them."

"Tom?" Chakotay asked, glancing at the pilot, who was looking feverish again.

"Aiden. Take Tom Paris to the back hall and stay with him. Use the sand gauge, we will be back in one full turn. Cynthia has more of the tea, give him as much as you can."

"Yes father." the young man said, apparently not minding that he would be excluded from the impromptu history lesson Chakotay was about to experience. Aiden draped Paris over his shoulders with a brotherly care and the two left the room at a slow pace, heading up a nearby passage way that was obviously used often.

"Come." Conan said quickly, turning in the opposite direction. "We must hurry." he added, as if the frequent shudders form the ground were not motivation enough.

* * *

"Rest." Aiden said as he gently lay Paris upon a new pile of furs. They'd walked for only a short time, all of it uphill, and Tom was exhausted. The room they were in now was smaller than the other, with only one small (still running though) fountain. There was a low wooden table and two piles of furs, as well as the glowing roof moss.

"Can't." Tom wheezed out, his eyes half closed.

"Why?"

"Because." he said, letting his head fall back onto the soft bed. "It's about to start. I can feel it, just like the ship before we jump to warp."

* * *

Like a giant rolling in his sleep the ground rolled and shook with tremendous force, and then, with a horrific sound of crashing stone the passage way Harry, B'Elanna, Chakotay and Conan were in simply ceased to exist. And when it finally came to an end, there would be two tons of rock and rubble separating the away team and their guide from one another.

* * *

Two left turns and half a mile away Tom and Aiden were involved intheir own fight for survival.

A/N: Sorry. Both of us are having problems getting to our computers. Please review, with comments/suggestions, or just to say that you read it. It's so great to just know that people are reading and gives us an extra push when we're piddling around writing the next chapter.

Some spaces have been disappearing. I tried to fix them all but if some words are all run together I'm really sorry,


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but we both had our share of trouble. Liz is still sick and I just a short time ago get back my notebook. Though there´s the newest chapter and we would like to finish the story. Read and enjoy.

**Survivors Past and Present**

**by Nicol Leoraine**

**&**

**Elizabeth Gilliam**

**Chapter 10**

Two left turns and half a mile away Tom and Aiden were involved in their own fight for survival.

Even as the ground continued to shake, cold air and even colder water poured into the room and Tom grasped Aiden's arm like a life line. Only pure will power kept him from screaming as the powerful current of water tore through the room, throwing his pained body about like

a rag toy. Both men knew what was happening, though neither spoke out loud. The water system that had once pulsed life through the caves had now turned against them, a wild and out of control beast.

Aiden was gasping for breath, eyes wide and fearful as he struggled to stand against the growing current, his strong body braced against the wall, arms wrapped around the thin form of Tom, who could barely stand in the strong flow of water. The fingers gripping his forearm

were more of a comfort than a pain, as they remimded him that he wasn't alone.

The two men fought to keep their footing, coughing as water sprayed in their faces. But when the water level rose another few inches and an undertow developed they were powerless to stop from being pulled under. Somehow, as the current towed them through the now flooded caves, Tom's hand remained latched onto Aiden's arm. No matter how many times they were pulled under, gulping air instead of water, the grip remained tight.

Their world blurred and swirled together, the only clear spot being where their cold, damp flesh touched, Toms hand on Aiden's arm. And when the water finally dumped them outside the caves, in a puddle of mud and damp furs, neither man let go of the other.

xxx

Somewhere, close but not dangerously so, there was a sound of running water. Chakotay didn't feel wet though, as he coughed on the swirling dust and struggled to stand. Gods, he didn't even remember falling to the ground, but by the way his body was protesting it must have been quite a dive to the floor. The walls were groaning ominously, and the sound of water was closer.

Feeling as if he'd just walked through a desert storm, Chakotay cleared his throat and rubbed dust from his eyes. He winced as his muscles protested, but was relieved to find that nothing seemed broken.

"Conan?" he called out, having a vague recollection that the man had been near him when the quake started. Something touched his leg in response and Chakotay gave a very un-dignified yelp, jumping away.

"It is only me," Conan said, his voice raspy and tense.

"Are you injured?" Chakotay asked, looking the man over in the dim light.

"No worse than you. Can you help me stand?"

"Nothing broken?" Chakoty asked, before helping the trembling man to his feet.

"No. But I believe our situation has just become more precarious."

"I believe you're right. Where are the others?"

"They were behind us, the boy was limping and had trouble keeping up with us."

"B'Elanna! Harry!" Chakotay shouted, but there was no reply, only an odd echo. Chakotay frowned.

"Go, search for your friends. I will see if the tunnel to the Chamber is clear."

Before he could respond Conan was gone, stumbling in his hast up a narrow, silver walled passage-way. Chakotay listened to the echo of his steps for a moment, then turned and walked in the opposite direction. He didn't make it further than three yards around the turn before he collided with a wall of debris and fallen rocks. Breathing hard Chakotay realized, with no small amount of fear, that Harry and B'Elanna were on the other side of the cave in. Or perhaps under it. Taking a deep breath he shook his head, refusing to think of that. He called out their names, again and again as he searched for a way around, over or under the rubble.

xxx

The silence was almost as frightening as the rumbling a while ago. B´Elanna shook her head and winced as she get up to her feet, letting several smaller rocks slide down her back. The cave-in was an unwanted surprise for both her and Harry. When the Starfleet ensign stopped, giving a little time to his bad ankle, she stopped with him, not wanting to leave the kid behind. When the earthquake started, she pushed him down to the ground, knowing that trying to run away would be futile.

"Harry?"

The pained moan was her reply and B´Elanna quickly made her way toward the sound. She'd thought Harry was closer, but the quake must have pushed him away. She half walked, half crawled for several yards, until she found him, close to one of the walls.

"Hey, Starfleet. What's wrong?" Torres knelt down and despite the darkness, her fingers worked over Harry's body in the dim light.

"My leg," Harry hissed.

He recoiled with a pained moan as B´Elanna found the source of his pain. She couldn't stop the gasp that escaped her lips, and instantly regretted it, hearing the panic in Harry's voice.

"What's... wrong?" he panted.

"Nothing. Just lie still."

Her hands carefully moved over the heap of rocks and stones that buried Harry's right leg from knee down. The heap grew into a mountain and B´Elanna realized that it was trapped beneath the cave in.

"No, something... something is wrong. Tell me." Harry pleaded.

"You're sort of stuck. Under some rocks."

"I'm all in one piece, right?" he asked, panic seeping through his words.

"Of course you are," B´Elanna soothed him. "Once Chakotay turns off that damn shield, Voyager will beam us up. You'll be fine, Starfleet."

"Can't you... can't you just pull me out? You know... just free my leg?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but I... I can't. It's too dangerous and... if I move the wrong rock, everything can fall down, burying us."

"So... what now?"

"We'll wait." As hard as it was to say for the half-Klingon, B´Elanna knew there was no other choice.

xxx

"Just keep coughing."

Tom's chest was on fire, and his mind was in turmoil. He remembered bracing for the earthquake, and then there was a vague recollection of water. Lots and lots of water. That would explain the chill he felt in his bones, and why he was coughing up what seemed to be an entire ocean, but id didn't explain the strange, muddy surroundings, or the stranger that was supporting him and speaking in a gentle, slightly accented voice.

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and looked around a little bit. Aiden, the stranger's name was Aiden and he, like Tom, was dripping wet. Aiden still had most of his clothing though, while Tom found he had only his pants and socks.

"Well..." Aiden said, breathing hard as he leaned against a tree. "At least the water helped with your fever."

Tom only coughed in reply. When he'd come to he'd been lying here, legs dangling in a river, Aiden coughing up water beside him. He'd lain their for a while, not breathing, and when he finally did draw a breath he choked, and found himself following Aiden's example and coughing up the inhaled water.

Looking around at their new surroundings Tom's mouth literally fell open in shock. They were on the banks of a wide river that flowed from underneath the huge mountain, or set of mountains. There was mud, and a little further away lush, knee deep grass. Various sorts of trees and shrubs grew along the rivers bank, and groves of them grew further away. But all of that paled in comparison to the shade of the sky. It was dark red, reminding Tom of the sunset at Marseilles, though this was a more ominous shade than the one he recalled.

"What's...with the...sky?" Tom panted, making Aiden look up with a grimace of fear.

"I don't know," Aiden replied in a gloomy tone. "But I don't like it."

"Ya...me either." Tom muttered, trying to clear his throat, without success. It felt as if he'd eaten sand paper or something. His breathing had eased a little, but Tom still felt a strange, ticklish rattle each time he tried to inhale and the vague tightness around his chest was still there. However, his impromptu swim in the river had lowered his fever considerably and Tom felt the cobwebs start to clear from his mind. Pain, pain was nothing, he was used to it, he could deal with it. He pushed himself into a more upright position and looked at Aiden.

"How exactly did we get out here?"

The other man paused, contemplating his answer.

"I'm not sure. But the water took us out."

"That much I'd figured out." Tom said, glancing at their damp attire. "But, what about the storms?"

Aiden shrugged.

"I do not think they are our largest problem anymore."

Tom wasn't sure of that, though he was certain that the earthquakes had been no picnic either.

"So. How do we get back to the caves?"

"We don't." Aiden replied, yawning. "I've been here once. It's a week's walk to get to the next entrance to the caves."

"The others?"

"Probably still on their way to the Chamber of -" Aidan stopped , eyes wide. "Uh-oh." he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the little blue crystal. Tom wasn't sure if the expression in his eyes was fear, or relief.

"What?" Tom asked suspiciously.

"The key...they can't reach the City, even if they make it to the Chamber and learn what they sought."

"Why not?"

"I have the key. The only key."

There was a long pause and then Tom asked, "Can we make it to the city?"

Aiden looked at him in surprise, then down at the key. "Maybe. I suppose. The city is half a day's walk from here but...you have not seen the words or pictures in the Chamber, and you are ill."

"I'm doing better than you think, and you've seen the Chamber haven't you?"

Aiden nodded silently.

"Okay then, help me up."

"Are you sure?" Aiden said doubtfully, looking Tom over again, taking in the pale complexion, the vivid bruise on his chest, and the new, nasty gash across his shoulder.

"I don't think we have much choice." Tom hissed, rising unsteadily to his feet with Aiden's help.

"You're right." Aiden said as they started to walk, slowly. "If the shield is not lowered then my family, and your friends, will die."

There was nothing more to say as the two men headed for the blue shimmer on the horizon.

xxx

Orsen was not a happy man. After waking with a headache bigger then the mountain he lived by, he found that his blasted nephew had robbed him of the Key. He was more than angry, he was furious. The first person he met after waking was lucky enough to be left only with a concussion and a bruise under his eye.

Feeling just a little better after pummeling the unfortunate guard, Orsen headed for the tunnels, knowing well enough where the brat would go. Now he was cursing his own lightheartedness, when allowing the boy to live with him. He should've killed him when he'd

had the chance, along with his weakling of a mother - Orsen´s sister. That had been a long time ago, when Aiden was no more than ten summers old. Perhaps there was some shred of compassion in Orsen, for he'd let the boy live, even knowing who he was. A foolish mistake he'd not soon repeat.

Maybe it had been some subconscious drive to bring a heir into the world, and Aiden happened to take that place. Orsen was a sterile man, for no matter how many women he bedded a child was never produced. So he'd told Aiden his parents had died in a rockslide and raised the boy. He should have known Conan would not simply let his son go.

But somehow, Orsen hadn't the slightest idea how, that heap of dung had known, and taken the key ­ the only thing Orsen valued more than his life. It gave him ultimate power over the city and the secrets he knew slept there. Conan and his motley crew held the Chamber, but the knowledge there was useless to them without the key, so Orsen was assured in his power.

Now that the source of his power was gone, Orsen felt his rage building. He hardly seemed to notice the frequent tremors that ran through the ground or the semi-panicked state of all those around him. He walked steadily through the caves, taking a rout that lead directly to the heart of the city, the place the little brat and his father would surely go. Orsen had only one goal in mind as he walked.

To kill Aiden, his father and the strangers, then retrieve the Key.

xxx

Somewhere above the red hued sky and swirling atmosphere, a silver ship orbited, hailing four missing members of their team. They would get no answer.

**To Be continue**

**A/N: Okay folks, send us your reviews and inspire us, and you shall read the next chapter soon. Remember, reviews are good for health, and my friend needs them right now.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Survivors - Past and Present**

**by Nicol Leoraine & Elizabeth Gilliam**

**aka**

**VirtualQueens**

**Chapter 11**

**Survivors - Past and Present**

**by Nicol Leoraine & Elizabeth Gilliam**

**aka**

**VirtualQueens**

**Chapter 11**

Somewhere above the red hued sky and swirling atmosphere, a silver ship orbited, hailing four missing members of their team. They would get no answer.

Voyager circled the planet slowly, scanners sweeping the surface. Storms were brewing in the atmosphere and they had detected several tectonic disturbances in the last few hours.  
It was what they were not detecting however that worried them. Life signs their were aplenty, but comm badge signals...none. Four of Voyagers crew had vanished.

* * *

"B´Elanna!" Chakotay shouted, his voice hoarse from shouting. He stopped and listed, as he had before, and waited for a reply that didn't come. "B'Elanna! Harry!" he shouted again. The rumble of shifting stones was the only sound other than his voice and the faint rushing of water. Chakotay was covered in dust and his hands were bleeding from his futile attempts at digging through the piles of rubble. 

"Chakotay!"

The former Maquis didn't hear the words, but he felt the hand that landed on his shoulder and jumped back in surprise.

"Conan?" he stuttered in surprise, barely making out the shape of the other man.

"It is me." Conan replied, his voice soft but sure. "We must go, quickly."

"I can't leave them." Chakotay protested, motioningat the heaps of rubble behind them.

"You must. We will never get through the dirt and stone that separates us from them. If they are on the other side they will find their way back to the others and to safety," the old man said gravely.

"And if they're under there, or hurt?"

"If they are hurt, help will find them. If they are under the rubble... they have no need of any help breathing men can offer."

Chakotay closed his eyes at this, composing himself. He knew what Conan said was right, but he was still a man of principles and it did not feel right to leave anyone behind.

"Come Chakotay." Conan said. "We must hurry now to turn off the shield.Ican think of no other explanation for the recent events other than that your ship has come looking for you. The closer they come the stronger the quakes and storms will be."

The older man said nothing more, turning away and beginning to pick his way over scattered rocks. After a long moment Chakotay followed, hoping they would be fast enough - and Voyager slow enough - to prevent what seemed to be an inevitable cataclysm.

Conan said nothing further, instead turning away and beginning to pick his way over scattered rubble. After a long moment Chakotay followed, hoping that they would be fast enough - and Voyager slow enough - to prevent what seemed to be an inevitable cataclysm.

**xxxx**

Five minutes. That was the total amount of time that B'Elanna Torres managed to sit on a rock and wait for rescue.

She jumped to her feet, startling a half conscious Kim.

"Pahtk! I can't wait any longer!" she all but shouted, making Harry cringe.

"B'Elanna?" he rasped, causing the half-Klingon to pause and then kneel beside him. There was a rustle of cloth as the woman searched for something next to him.

"Watcha...looking for?" Harry mumbled wearily.

"This!" B'Elanna said triumphantly, pressing two objects into his hands. One was a water canteen, heavy with liquid, and the other was a smooth circular fruit that smelled quite a bit like an apple.

"Water," she said by way of explanation "and fruit. I tried one earlier. Not bad."

"Well, no offence but...you're half Klingon. I would like to see a food you didn't like." Harry muttered. "Hey!" He complained as B'Elanna growled at him and slapped the back of his hand.

"Why'd you do that?" he whined childishly, "I'm already hurt."

"And you need food and liquid, so shut up and eat."

"Would you peel it for me?" Harry asked, holding out the fruit. He was glad for the darkness, because he was sure that if looks could kill, he'd be a pile of dust.

After a minute he took a bite of the fruit and chewed slowly. "Do you think they made it?" Harry asked after a moment, his tone no longer joking.

"Chakotay will be fine." B'Elanna said quickly. "He's survived worse. A little cave-in won't stop him. It shouldn't stop me either," she growled, hopping to her feet and stalking to the nearest pile of rocks. Harry wasn't sure of her intentions until the half klingon yanked a huge boulder out of the way, sending a shower of smaller stones onto Harry, or more precisely, Harry's injured leg. He cried out in pain as the rocks reawakened the hot pain of his injury.

B'Elanna looked a little frazzled by the amount of pain her actions had caused Harry and she stood still, watching as he breathed heavily.

"What the hell are you doing Torres!"

"Trying to get us out of here." She replied with her usual fierceness returning.

"Could you do it without amputating my leg?" Harry asked plaintively.

"It was just a couple pebbles!"

"So you say." Harry muttered. "Why are you trying to get through that part of the cave in anyways when the corridor behind us is less blocked?"

"Because," the engineer said with something resembling patience, "you need medical attention and the only person with that knowledge is on the other side of that!" she waved at the ceiling high pile of stones.

"But..."

"And I'm a half-Klingon on a world that's convinced they're at war with Klingons. I don't really want a repeat of earlier."

"But they know you aren't against them!" Harry reasoned.

"The only people who know that are Aiden and Conan. Neither of whom is around, in case you hadn't noticed."

Harry really didn't have a response to this and the pain in his leg had made him tired. "Oh." he said finally.

"I need to get through." B'Elanna said determinately, working her way carefully back to cave in.

**xxxx**

Tom was beginning to doubt he'd make it to their destination. Aiden claimed it would take a half a day in good conditions, but the pilot felt as if he would be lucky to make it through the next five minutes. His side throbbed with each beat of his heart and a deep pain in his chest made his breaths ragged and short. Aiden had set a quick pace and was now yards ahead of Tom. He stopped though, at a rocky outcropping.

"We should rest."

Tom wheezed in agreement and sat down where he was, leaning his head against a boulder and closing his eyes.

"I've never seen it so red before." Aiden said suddenly, staring at the sky. Tom didn't know what to say in response and Aiden stared, seemingly entranced, at the swirling red clouds for almost a full minute. Then he shook his head, as if to clear it, and looked over at the shivering pilot.

"Here," Aiden said gently, "Take my vest. It's nearly dry." He offered Tom the fur lined garment and after a moments hesitation Tom slipped it on. "Thanks." he mumbled, grateful for the warmth. It wasn't overly cold out, but there was a light wind and Tom was bare chested and still damp. He pulled the vest tighter around his body, mindful for the scars that traced over his back and chest. There were many, although the majority had faded to only thin lines, but the most recent among them twinged with renewed pain.

They'd been having power fluctuations and the ship was dark... Tom had finished a double shift on the helm and had decided to use the back corridors to get to his cabin. He'd run into someone, several someone's, and one had slashed his side with a knife. It had been a shallow cut from rib to hip, a warning rather than a full out attack. He'd patched himself up in his cabin and forgotten about the incident - it was only one of many. Now though Tom wondered what would happen if he made it back to Voyager. His scars had been seen by the others and he doubted that Chakotay, or rather Chakotay's sense of duty, would leave the issue alone. Tom shook his head tiredly, deciding it wasn't worth the energy to worry about it.

"I think we should move." He said, rising to his feet and swaying as the world tilted precariously. Aiden grabbed his arm and steadied him. "You're not feeling well."

"No." Tom said agreeably "I'm not. But waiting isn't going to make me feel any better and if I don't move now, I'm not sure I'll be able to."

Aiden looked worried but released the pilots arm and began walking, throwing worried glances back every few seconds.

"So tell me," Tom said after a bit, to take his mind off his increasingly painful existence "How is it that you speak standard when the others don't?"

"Conan taught me when I was young. He learned it from his father."

"Father to son thing huh."

Aiden raised a brow, wondering just how much Tom had heard in the cave, then nodded. "Yes. Conan is my father and he taught me as his father taught him."

"Who's Orsen then?" Tom asked.

"He is my uncle. Not a good man."

"But you lived with him..." Tom said, frowning.

"My mother was his sister. She died when I was young and Orsen raised me."

"Not Conan?"

"The rift between those who live in the mountain and those who don't is deep. My mother died outside of the mountains. By the time my father knew, Orsen had already taken me. Conan would have risked starting a war had he taken me back." Aiden grinned crookedly and added: "but Orsen could not stop me from meeting Conan."

"Have you ever been to the city?" Tom asked, changing the subject.

"No." Aiden frowned slightly. "Only the one who has the key can enter the city. Orsen has held the key for as long as I can remember."

"But Orsen doesn't live in the city...why?"

Aiden shrugged. "The city is ancient...I think even your people will not understand it. There are things there that...that make no sense and events occur near the city which should not be possible. Some say the spirits of the people who built the city remain to guard their treasure. People who go to the city or even have the key for long periods of time have died in strange ways or gone crazy. They see things and scream of ghosts before dying."

"Is that how your mother died?" Tom asked carefully.

"She was not crazy." Aiden said after a moment "but she did go to the city before she died. With Orsen."

"Is Orsen crazy?"

Aiden paused to think about his answer.

"He is. But I don't think it has anything to do with the city. He's just...bad inside. He's always been like that though."

Before Tom could ask another question they made it to the top of the most recent hill and suddenly the city was in view. Crimson clouds hung ominously over the city, its blue buildings sparking defiantly against the red. The whole city was shimmering and for a moment Tom believed everything he'd heard about spirits left behind to protect their city.

"By the Gods," Aidnen whispered, coming to a stop next to Tom, "I hope we aren't too late."

**TO BE CONTINUE**

**

* * *

**__

**_A/N - Liz - Sorry, sorry, sorry! One disaster after another kept me from writing. I just never had the time. Eeek! I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll try to be faster when writing the next one. The mysteries of the city will be revealed in due time and we have a bit more in store regarding Tom's scars and claustrophobia. As for the names, I'm afraid we weren't quite that creative...the names are more or less random, selected because we thought they fit the characters. :p Thanks for all the reviews, please let us know what you think of this latest chapter! The reviews and a few e-mails were what made us get this chapter done...even if it was late._**

**_(By the way, if I get some free time I'll be updating little parts of this chapter to make it smoother. So if you read it a second time and find the wording different, don't worry, you're not insane.)_**

_**A/N - Nicol - Well, we took our time with writing that one:-) Sorry for the delay but sometimes real life is hell and there´s also something called writer´s block - cough - Nevermind, your reviews pushed us into work and I am glad. I also want to thank to all who reviewed, we will try and answer the questions you asked in the story itself. So stay tuned and review.**_


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